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There are times when I am concerned about Toph's expression when I'm really singing, with vibrato and all, singing the guitar parts--his expression one that to the untrained eye might look like abject terror, or revulsion--but I know well enough that it is awe. I understand his awe. I deserve his awe. I am an extraordinary singer.
As we hit our street, Spruce, and the ground flattens out, I inquire, as gently as I possibly can, about his hitting, or lack thereof. "So why do you suck so much at hitting?"
There is no overwhelming need to read the preface. Really. It exists mostly for the author, and those who, after finishing the rest of the book, have for some reason found themselves stuck with nothing else to read. If you have already read the preface, and wish you had not, we apologize. We should have told you sooner.