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If it had been the Chinese rather than the West who first developed digital computing, what would the IO devices look like?

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<div> —  <i>China in Ten Words, </i>Yu Hua </div><span><p>Experience tells me that too many answers are the same as none at all; perhaps only one can constitute a real answer. So I will supply just a single explanation, one that I think may be the most important; whether it is the true answer is impossible to know.</p><p>It’s your experience while growing up, I believe, that shapes the direction of your life. A basic image of the world is planted deep in your mind, and then, like a document in a copy machine, it keeps being reprinted again and again throughout your formative years. Once you reach adulthood, whether your'e successful or not, whatever you accomplish can only partially revise that basic image; it will never be entirely transformed. Naturally some revise the image more and some revise it less. Mao Zedong, I’m sure, made more revisions than I have done.</p></span>
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╰ી🥛ྀ̤୶ icons chinese girl

— Like, reblog if save!

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<div> —  <i>China in Ten Words, </i>Yu Hua </div><span><p>All this happened a long time ago. Growing up is, in a sense, a process of forgetting, and later in life I completely forgot about this macabre but beautiful childhood moment: how on a stifling-hot summer afternoon I lay in the morgue, on the slab that symbolized death, and there experienced life’s cooling caress.</p><p>So things remained until one day, many years later, I happened upon a line in a poem by Heine: ‘Death is the cooling night.’ That childhood memory, lost for so long, suddenly restored itself to my quivering heart, returning freshly washed, in limpid clarity, never again to leave me.</p><p>If literature truly possesses a mysterious power, I think perhaps it is precisely this: that one can read a book by a writer of a different time, a different country, a different race, a different language, and a different culture and there encounter a sensation that is one’s very own. Heine put into words the feeling I had as a child when I lay napping in the morgue. And that, I tell myself, is literature.</p></span>
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shitposting about chinese class feels way too natural by now

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Spring Hanfu trip with good friends!!!😆😆

(posed pictures(*/ω\*)

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One of my oldest OCs, Lien Zhang!

Powers: Telekinesis and Telepathy; learning to control matter

Criminal, involuntarily becomes antihero

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I wake, and moonbeams play around my bed,

Glittering like hoar-frost to my wandering eyes;

Up towards the glorious moon I raised my head,

Then lay me down — and thoughts of home arise.

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“Quiet Night Thoughts” (静夜思) by poet, Li Bai (李白, 701–762 AD)

P.s : The moon was enchanting last night ✨🌙

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