دانلود رمان انگلیسی “دنیای محصور شده وهم انگیز و بی هنر”

For example, if I were to write a novel starting with a sentence like that, it might attract some attention because it gives the feeling of being some modern meaningful metaphor. In reality however, all it meant was that the clock tower looming over the school I attended, as if it were its emblem, had its minute hand broken for the past half year. The academy I attend—the middle school section of the private academy Kazusaen. Its splendid brick buildings were apparently reconstructed from a dismantled European school around ten years ago (although they were using it as a high school instead of middle school then). When I entered this school in April of this year, I was astonished by its majestic old-fashioned look and honestly fascinated from the bottom of my heart. However, with the main piece of the clock tower positioned in the center of the buildings being broken, I couldn’t help but feel like the overall image was completely ruined. Looking at it from that perspective, it’s no wonder that I’d come to see the clock tower as a mere long rectangular object. Rather than looking like a clock tower, it came off as a blocky chimney with pointy needles stuck to it. It could at most become handy during Christmas. And obviously, since it wasn’t actually a chimney, it wouldn’t even be of any use then either. The clock was still functional when I entered the school, but around May, the minute hand stopped moving, pointing at the “X” numeral. Since then, half a year passed, with no repair attempts to this very day; it was abandoned. The reason for that was that the mechanism was too complex and difficult to repair—as if. Well, I heard rumors about the school thinking that it wasn’t important enough to warrant spending the time to fix it. I’d hoped it might have gotten done during summer vacation, but unfortunately, that didn’t happen. When the second semester rolled around, that broken clock was still broken. No matter how much of a pain it might have been, I couldn’t help but be astonished at the sheer lack of action. But well, for the school (although it being a pain to fix was probably their real reason), being a renowned private institution, they probably didn’t want to let outsiders (in this case, repairmen) enter the school too much. I had to imagine the lazy staff would act before the new students enrolled next year, but maybe they were still assuming a wait-and-see-what-happens attitude and thinking to themselves “Well, if we’re lucky, it might start moving on its own one day.” It was originally part of an overseas building. It would be a big affair if we halfheartedly tried to fix it and ended up making the problem worse. However, despite having said unfortunately, I didn’t really believe that the broken down state of the clock tower was that unfortunate. The antique and majestic atmosphere of the school ruined by the single aspect, that being the clock tower’s defective state—I must say, in reality, I was pretty fond of this haphazard balance. I was disappointed, but at the same time, I couldn’t get enough of this disappointment. This state of unrest, where anything could happen. The absence of something that was supposed to be there made my heart race—although I couldn’t realistically expect something to happen just from one hand of a school’s clock being frozen. Even so, there is that story of how a butterfly flapping its wings ultimately ended up causing a tornado. Just making use of my imagination shouldn’t be a sin. To sum it up, my point is that, in Kazusaen Academy, if you relied on the clock tower to know the time, you’d end up in trouble. The best thing to do was to ignore the minute hand and treat it like a sundial—the current time was approximately quarter past four in the afternoon. I thoughtlessly thought that while looking up at the clock tower from the library in the south building.