Every summer, we want Mr. Donovan to talk to him. He told us various stories we like to listen to. I heard he was sick. When we found him back from the hospital, we went to visit him immediately. His speaker was removed. When he put his finger on his throat, his voice came out like a whisper. We can't understand him, but despite his eyes we can see what he means. At the funeral, we were scared because we did not know whether our family would welcome us when we arrived at Funa. The family greeted us cordially, saying they were happy that we were home. We weep for the good memories of the old Donovan and comfort us. That summer, Mr. Donovan’s sister and I learned not to judge the heart until you know that it may just be hidden wealth.
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