"And what did you do last night, Dexter? Oh, I played with my dolls while a friend chopped up my sister."

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As it unfolded, the structure of the story began to remind me of one of those Russian dolls that contain innumerable ever-smaller dolls within. Step by step the narrative split into a thousand stories, as if it had entered a gallery of mirrors, its identity fragmented into endless reflections.

— Carlos Ruiz Zafon