Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“But he'd never seen anything like this before. And he'd never felt anything like it, either. The closest he could think of was when he and Blink were immersed in a book together. Sometimes a strange feeling would come over them as they'd race through the pages, and the words would dissolve, and they'd find themselves deep inside Oz, or Narnia, or the Andes, or Africa, where everything was real and vidid and alive.
Stories could do that, but this wasn't story. This was a house. And no matter how real a story seemed, you still couldn't eat the food, or pick up the plates, or warm yourself by the fire.”