When Salander went to bed on her seventh night in Hedeby, she was mildly irritated with Blomkvist. For almost a week she had spent practically every waking minute with him. Normally seven minutes of another person’s company was enough to give her a headache, so she set things up to live as a recluse. She was perfectly content as long as people left her in peace. Unfortunately society was not very smart or understanding; […]. There was a whole army of people who seemed not to have anything better to do than to try to disrupt her life, and, if they were given the opportunity, to correct the way she had chosen to live it.
It did no good to cry, she had learned that early on. She had also learned that every time she tried to make someone aware of something in her life, the situation just got worse. Consequently, it was up to her to solve her problems by herself, using whatever methods she deemed necessary. (*like murdering) […]
*minha nota.
(Sempre quis parecer com a mocinha do livro mas isso raramente acontece. Apos anos de busca e mais de 500 livros lidos (ah, eu devo estar por ai…) enfim achei minha sosia, Lizbeth Salander. Excluindo o fato de que eu TALVEZ jamais mataria alguem so pra tirar essa pessoa do meu caminho, a gente se parece um monte).
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