As a child, I grew up in a modest neighborhood where access to books was limited. My parents installed in me a love for reading, and I longed for more knowledge. That’s when Mrs. Henderson, a retired teacher with a passion for books, decided to establish a little library in our community.
The library was a small wooden structure, almost like a dollhouse, situated at the end of our street. Mrs. Henderson filled it with a variety of books, from children’s stories to classics and non-fiction. The library was free for anyone in the neighborhood to use, and it quickly became a hub for the curious minds of our community, myself included.
I vividly remember the first time I stepped into that tiny library. The shelves were packed with books of all kinds. I felt like I had entered a treasure trove. I started borrowing books regularly, and the more I read, the more I thirsted for knowledge.
It wasn’t just the books that made this library special; it was Mrs. Henderson herself. She would spend hours talking to each child, helping them choose books that matched their interests. She made learning fun and accessible, and she inspired us to dream big.
注意：续写词数应为 150 左右。
As I continued to visit the library, my horizons expanded. I read about places I had never seen, met characters with diverse backgrounds and experiences, and learned about different cultures and perspectives.
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Every time I entered the library, I could always see Mrs. Henderson busy with the books. She knew us by name, our favorite genres, and our wildest dreams. One day,
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