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Conquering Heights: One Boy’s Journey from Resentment to Acceptance Through Love and Tower Climbing
Benjamin’s familial abode graces the landscape of Frick, California, USA. At the tender age of seven, tragedy befell him when his progenitor succumbed to an unforeseen accident. Swiftly thereafter, his matron, Wendy, entered the realm of matrimony once more, bestowing upon Benjamin a stepfather by the name of Anderson. Regrettably, Anderson harbored a somewhat volatile temperament, and a harmonious rapport eluded Benjamin. The familial dwelling resonated with frequent discord between the two. Gradually, a profound animosity burgeoned within Benjamin towards Anderson, manifested in a refusal to exchange pleasantries. Wendy, in her maternal solicitude, endeavored on numerous occasions to elucidate that Anderson harbored genuine affection, though his mode of expression remained…
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Three Trios: A Daughter’s Reflections on Her Mother’s Life
01 Three trios of wings, fluttering soundlessly in the resplendent hush. Prior to my arrival here, I sojourned for a few days on the Adriatic Sea, dwelling in a residence along the coastline. Occasional beachgoers adorned the petite expanse of sandy shores. From my terrace, I could discern and perceive their presence. On a particular day, a woman with an unmistakably exuberant laughter seized my attention. Gazing upward, I beheld three elderly women immersing themselves in the sea. They exposed their bosoms and swam just beyond the shore. They configured a circular arrangement, akin to encircling a round table, partaking in the consumption of coffee. (Take heed of the accent)…
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My New Life: Unpacking, Painting, and Growing
I embarked on solitary living. My abode occupies the fifth level, where my minuscule existence remains concealed. The climate is delightful, for it is the balmy season of spring. Its zephyr emerges through crevices, and the illumination is exceedingly faint, gently alighting upon the beige drapes. This fabric, adorning the curtains, was initially preserved by my grandmother. Similar to me, she possesses an affinity for accumulating trifles. Gradually, an abundance of possessions amasses, inundating the entire cabinet with seemingly “useless” items. Nonetheless, we perpetually assert: “They shall prove useful when the need arises!” Indeed, my rental abode is devoid of any belongings; everything is immaculately white, while the verdant grass…
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The Thrown Oranges: A Story of Love, Loss, and Regret
A thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl who was going to work as a servant in a distant place was dressed in ragged clothes, with a bleak face and chilblains on her hands and face. She was holding a train ticket in the third-class car, but she didn’t know the situation, so she ran to the second-class car in a daze. Regardless of the soot and cold, she struggled to open the heavy glass window, “I” was about to reprimand her, but found that she only wanted to dye five or six “sunshine-like warm colors” in her arms when the train passed by a small village. Oranges”, tossed to her younger brothers…
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Who killed the sorrow
When modern people mention the word “sorrow”, they often look with contempt. It seems that material civilization is highly developed, and “sorrow” has to pack up and leave like a long-term laborer in the old days. As a result, what we see is a picture of life that publicizes various worldly desires. People seem to have let go of the shackles that have imprisoned them for thousands of years, jumping and shouting ecstasy, as if they have stepped into a paradise of human freedom. excited. Sorrow receded like a tide. Without sorrow, people don’t even have dreams. The night without dreams is so chaotic, and the dawn without dreams is…
