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今年十月份考高考一类科目第一次，十二月份考第二次。
专科现在还差一门，就考数学吧。
专科成绩：
中文：800/800
化学：710/800
拉丁文不是必修，但是每人必须要选修两年的外语。
今年是我的第三年。老师竟然让我和小白（我们家老男人）坐在一起，以至于我们都觉得对不起党和人民了。
所以，我们还是很自觉的。
英语要求写一篇风景记叙，写完发上来给你们看。
（土人现在终于有校内了，没事可以加我）
今年十月份考高考一类科目第一次，十二月份考第二次。
专科现在还差一门，就考数学吧。
专科成绩：
中文：800/800
化学：710/800
拉丁文不是必修，但是每人必须要选修两年的外语。
今年是我的第三年。老师竟然让我和小白（我们家老男人）坐在一起，以至于我们都觉得对不起党和人民了。
所以，我们还是很自觉的。
英语要求写一篇风景记叙，写完发上来给你们看。
（土人现在终于有校内了，没事可以加我）
那什么，作文给你们看看。
Summer Moment
It is bright outside of the subway station, but once I am underground, I could not tell how it is above the ground at all. The florescent lights provide enough light for the inside, but the lights are so old that I can feel them flickering above me. Being shortsighted, I actually like to have lots of lights because I could see better, but the rapid blinking from above makes me blink with the lights. I feel irritated.
The stairs which connect the entrance of the station to the platform are just a little younger than I am. The wooden handrails on the sides have been worn out. When they were first installed, the handrails were painted with shiny brown paint that reflected every streak of light. I remember looking at those bars and feeling them with my fingers as a child; they were smooth and soft. Nowadays, you can barely see the shiny brown paint on them because the paint came off and faded, and they never got repainted because the city spent more money on building additional stations, now that two new routes have opened.
The walls are covered in index card sized ivory wall tiles from the floor up to about three feet, and then paper white paint all the way up to the ceiling. Even though the walls are not dirty, the paper white walls turned to a subtle yellow-grayish color: Yellow because of people’s cigars, and gray because of the dust blowing out from the tunnels. The giant warning signs on the walls ought to be replaced. Some of the strokes in the characters faded. In Chinese, the only way to tell similar characters apart is to look closely at the stroke compositions. Those signs would just be a source of laughter to passengers and foreign tourists.
Summer Moment
It is bright outside of the subway station, but once I am underground, I could not tell how it is above the ground at all. The florescent lights provide enough light for the inside, but the lights are so old that I can feel them flickering above me. Being shortsighted, I actually like to have lots of lights because I could see better, but the rapid blinking from above makes me blink with the lights. I feel irritated.
The stairs which connect the entrance of the station to the platform are just a little younger than I am. The wooden handrails on the sides have been worn out. When they were first installed, the handrails were painted with shiny brown paint that reflected every streak of light. I remember looking at those bars and feeling them with my fingers as a child; they were smooth and soft. Nowadays, you can barely see the shiny brown paint on them because the paint came off and faded, and they never got repainted because the city spent more money on building additional stations, now that two new routes have opened.
The walls are covered in index card sized ivory wall tiles from the floor up to about three feet, and then paper white paint all the way up to the ceiling. Even though the walls are not dirty, the paper white walls turned to a subtle yellow-grayish color: Yellow because of people’s cigars, and gray because of the dust blowing out from the tunnels. The giant warning signs on the walls ought to be replaced. Some of the strokes in the characters faded. In Chinese, the only way to tell similar characters apart is to look closely at the stroke compositions. Those signs would just be a source of laughter to passengers and foreign tourists.
The air bothers me. The space below the stair case is occupied with tools and emergency supplies like water cartons and big flashlights, not an air conditioner like the ones they have in the newer stations. Wind blows onto the platform from the tunnels where the trains pass by every three minutes. The humidity in the air suffocates me, and the chilliness from the cold wind makes me shiver in my low rise jeans and a thin school T-shirt.
I take my father’s hand, pulling him forward to catch the train that has just stopped here, afraid that I am going to lose him in the crowd. Suddenly, my hand is free. I turn to look. Father closes his eyes and grinds his teeth, presses his right hand on the wall and pants.
“Sorry, baba, I should calm down. We still have plenty of time.” I smile apologetically.
“It’s all right, my child. My ankle sprain from last year still slows me down sometimes. I just can’t fly down the stair the way you do.” Father pats my right shoulder and instructs, “Now, just slow down and find me a place to rest a little, okay?”
I nod, taking his hand again, and lead him to a bench in the middle of the platform.
Baba is getting old.
I take my father’s hand, pulling him forward to catch the train that has just stopped here, afraid that I am going to lose him in the crowd. Suddenly, my hand is free. I turn to look. Father closes his eyes and grinds his teeth, presses his right hand on the wall and pants.
“Sorry, baba, I should calm down. We still have plenty of time.” I smile apologetically.
“It’s all right, my child. My ankle sprain from last year still slows me down sometimes. I just can’t fly down the stair the way you do.” Father pats my right shoulder and instructs, “Now, just slow down and find me a place to rest a little, okay?”
I nod, taking his hand again, and lead him to a bench in the middle of the platform.
Baba is getting old.
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