1 . Some things we cannot copy where I live. We will never celebrate Christmas inside a picture postcard. We have no winter wonderland, though once, inspired by a snowfall seen on the black-and-white television, I did collect some ice from the inside of the freezer to throw at my brother. By the time I got to him, all I had was a handful of rain.
What we do have is electricity. As long as the Tennessee Valley Authority can light up the southern night with strands of color, shining from every house and mobile home, they can have their white Christmas. I have seen lights wrapped around mailbox posts. In the country, you need a whole lot of extension cord (电缆) to electrify a mailbox.
I have seen them strung across the Peterbilt trucks. My mother never takes down her lights, strung on a cedar beam (雪松木梁) in the living room, though she does unplug them. The rich folks have switched to white lights, a lot of them, to be elegant. But it will always be lights of color, shining through a night which smells of woodsmoke, that mean Christmas to me.
I find it especially hard not to live in the past at this time of year, when I would do anything to see the world like a child again. It is why I fill the refrigerator every December with chocolate-covered cherries and watch, for the hundredth time, those 50-year-old Christmas specials about Santa Claus.
It is important that some things stay the same — that, at some point this season, someone will say, “We’re going to look at Christmas lights. Do you want to come?”
I go sometimes and sometimes just say no. It is enough to know someone is going. I have a fine memory of the lights; I do not want it to grow less than it was by putting on it new lights bought at Walmart.
1. What is the primary feature that the author values about Christmas in their location?| A．Snow-covered landscapes. | B．Traditional winter wonderland scenes. |
| C．Colorful Christmas lights. | D．Cedar beams in living rooms. |
| A．bring convenience to his life | B．create a Christmas atmosphere |
| C．generate warmth in harsh winter | D．save cord to power a mailbox |
| A．They prefer white lights for elegance. | B．They use fewer lights for simplicity. |
| C．They avoid using extension cords. | D．They rely on woodsmoke for lighting. |
| A．He takes delight in bidding farewell to the past. |
| B．He gets fed up with looking at Christmas lights. |
| C．He dislikes the color options available at Walmart. |
| D．He feels relieved that Christmas lights tradition is preserved. |
2 . The train was at a standstill, some twenty minutes outside Kolkata, when an unexpected stroke of luck presented Piya with an opportunity to go for a seat beside a window for some fresh air. She had been sitting in the stuffiest part of the train compartment, on the edge of a bench: now, moving to the open window, she saw that the train had stopped at a station called Champahati.
Looking over her shoulder, Piya spotted a tea-seller on the platform. Reaching through the bars of the window, she called him with a wave. She had never cared for the kind of chai, Indian tea, sold in Seattle, her hometown in the USA, but somehow, in the ten days she had spent in India she had developed an unexpected taste for milky, overboiled tea served in earthenware cups. There were no spices in it for one thing, and this was more to her taste than the chai at home.
She paid for her tea and was trying to get in the cup through the bars when the man in the seat opposite her own suddenly turned over a page, jolting her hand. She turned her wrist quickly enough to make sure that most of the tea spilled out of the window, but she could not prevent some from spilling over his papers.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Piya was very embarrassed: of everyone in the compartment, this was the last person she would have chosen to injure with her tea. She had noticed him while waiting on the platform in Kolkata and she had been struck by the self-satisfied tilt of his head and the way in which he stared at everyone around him, taking them in, sizing them up, sorting them all into their places.
“Here,” said Piya, producing a handful of tissues. “Let me help you clean up.”
“There’s nothing to be done,” he said testily (暴躁地). “These pages are ruined anyway.”
For a moment she considered pointing out that it was he who had knocked her hand. But all she could bring herself to say was, “I’m very sorry. I hope you’ll excuse me.”
“Do I really have a choice?” he said. “Does anyone have a choice when they’re dealing with Americans these days?”
Piya had no wish to get into an argument so she let this pass. Instead, she opened her eyes wide and, in an attempt to restore peace, came out with, “But how did you guess?”
“About what?”
“About my being American? You’re very observant.”
This seemed to do the trick. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t guess,” he said. “I knew.”
1. In the first paragraph, Piya was relieved when she got a window seat because it meant that_________.| A．there was more room for her luggage |
| B．she no longer had to suffer from a lack of air |
| C．there was less chance that she would miss her stop |
| D．she didn’t have to stand for the rest of the train journey |
| A．was disappointingly weak in taste | B．reminded her of her home in Seattle |
| C．would have tasted better if served fresh | D．was preferable to the chai she had had before |
| A．he was someone who was observant of surroundings |
| B．he seemed to think he was better than other people |
| C．he had tried to keep his distance from his fellow passengers |
| D．he had been looking for someone he knew on the station platform |
| A．find out what the man really thought about Americans |
| B．try to calm the situation down by starting a conversation |
| C．ensure the man realized that she had apologized |
| D．make sure the man knew he was being rude |
3 . Australia looks browner and flatter than I remembered; it’s dry grass here and there dotted with tough bushes and unremarkable buildings. The lighting is violently intense.
My friend keeps talking in the driver’s seat and I respond with ‘Ah-huh’ and ‘Oh really?’ to appear interested in her string of gossip about people whose faces I have long forgotten, whose stories I’ve stopped caring about.
‘Are you okay?’ my friend asks, taking her eyes off the road to study my expression with her all-knowing eyes.
‘Just tired,’ I say. She accepts my lie with an unconvinced shrug. I keep searching in my mind’s eyes, hoping to bring back into focus images from the remote towns of Asia: steam coming off boiling pots, baskets filled with strange fruits, giant pigs alongside little kids.
I laugh at the thought.
‘Something funny?’ my friend asks.
‘Oh, just a memory,’ I say. ‘The little kids in northern Thailand were so friendly. When we’d pass them in the street, they’d greet us at the top of their lungs in their native language.’
‘Cool,’ she says, and then-’Hey, guess what? I had my bathroom remade!’ ‘Wow,’ I say. And then she details her bathroom project, and I ‘Ah-huh’ and ‘Oh really?’. Home improvements, kids, full-time jobs: these are the standard conversation topics of thirty-something women. In the years since I left, my friends have matured into responsible adults, but I’m stuck in another place entirely, more comfortable in a local bus traveling along the edge of a Himalayan mountain. If they are all grownups now, what does that make me?
People say that travel changes you, but I never anticipated it would be like this. I close my eyes and return to the excitement of being sped at 565 miles per hour to somewhere foreign and wild. But I must stay this time. My dad has been diagnosed with a serious illness and so here I am, back in reality, back to my roots.
1. How does the author feel on her arrival in Australia?| A．Interested. | B．Conflicted. | C．Exhausted. | D．Excited. |
| A．They have different interests and lives as grownups. |
| B．They share fond memories of growing up together. |
| C．They care about and provide updates for each other. |
| D．They enjoy telling personal stories to exchange ideas. |
| A．they make me think of growing up as they do |
| B．we are all adults who will eventually settle down |
| C．a comfortable home is what we all need as adults |
| D．diverse experiences shape individuals’ life paths |
| A．Feeling Lost When Back in Australia |
| B．The Excitement of Traveling to Australia |
| C．Australia: A Place like Asia in My Heart |
| D．Out of Asia, Out of Mind |
4 . The train was at a standstill, some twenty minutes outside Kolkata, when an unexpected stroke of luck presented Piya with an opportunity to go for a seat beside a window for some fresh air. She had been sitting in the stuffiest part of the train compartment, on the edge of a bench, now, moving to the open window, she saw that the train had stopped at a station called Champahati.
Looking over her shoulder, Piya spotted a tea-seller on the platform. Reaching through the bars of the window, she called him with a wave. She had never cared for the kind of chai, Indian tea, sold in Seattle, her hometown in the USA, but somehow, in the ten days she had spent in India she had developed an unexpected taste for milky, overboiled tea served in earthenware cups. There were no spices in it for one thing, and this was more to her taste than the chai at home.
She paid for her tea and was trying to get in the cup through the bars when the man in the seat opposite her own suddenly turned over a page, jolting her hand. She turned her wrist quickly enough to make sure that most of the tea spilled out of the window, but she could not prevent some from spilling over his papers.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Piya was very embarrassed: of everyone in the compartment, this was the last person she would have chosen to injure with her tea. She had noticed him while waiting on the platform in Kolkata and she had been struck by the self-satisfied tilt of his head and the way in which he stared at everyone around him, taking them in, sizing them up, sorting them all into their places.
“Here,” said Piya, producing a handful of tissues. “Let me help you clean up.”
“There’s nothing to be done,” he said testily (暴躁地). “These pages are ruined anyway.”
For a moment she considered pointing out that it was he who had knocked her hand. But all she could bring herself to say was, “I’m very sorry. I hope you’ll excuse me.”
“Do I really have a choice?” he said. “Does anyone have a choice when they’re dealing with Americans these days?”
Piya had no wish to get into an argument so she let this pass. Instead, she opened her eyes wide and, in an attempt to restore peace, came out with, “But how did you guess?”
“About what?”
“About my being American? You’re very observant.”
This seemed to do the trick. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t guess,” he said. “I knew.”
1. In the first paragraph, Piya was relieved when she got a window seat because it meant that ________.| A．there was more room for her luggage |
| B．she no longer had to suffer from a lack of air |
| C．there was less chance that she would miss her stop |
| D．she didn’t have to stand for the rest of the train journey |
| A．was disappointingly weak in taste |
| B．reminded her of her home in Seattle |
| C．would have tasted better if served fresh |
| D．was preferable to the chai she had had before |
| A．find out what the man really thought about Americans |
| B．ensure the man realized that she had apologized |
| C．try to calm the situation down by starting a conversation |
| D．make sure the man knew he was being rude |
5 . The members of the group saw each other regularly, because they all had serious health problems. Twelve-year-old Marc was autistic (自闭症). But here, in the group circle, they could talk about what they felt. Here they could listen to the others and provide each other with some of the human attention they often so terribly missed.
But that evening, they didn’t know how to talk about what had just happened: Paul had died. The group would never again enjoy his animated laughter. Everyone stared straight ahead. Only sadness and a sense of impotence rose to the surface. No matter what she tried, Jackie, the nurse facilitating the group, couldn’t get a conversation going.
Then Jackie described how people in some cultures, when they were sad and wanted to share their feelings but could not find the words to express their sorrow, would sit in a circle and make rhythmic music together. Then everyone picked up one of the djembe drums in the room. Jackie began softly beating hers and the others joined in. Boom-boom-ta, boom-boom-ta. Slowly, they let the rhythm carry them away. Marc had trouble keeping time with the others and gave Jackie a frightened look. She smiled her encouragement, and he focused as well as he could. Jackie began to play slowly, and the others followed. At her sign, a few began to drum out of time with the beat.
Suddenly, the rhythm of the music changed. Everyone was playing his or her own melody: no one was leading the park. Everyone was carried by the music. Gradually, the sadness found its way out. Karin, in a wheelchair, was the first to think of how much Paul had enjoyed making music with the rest of the group. Then the others told their own stories. Their faces were wet with tears-as were the instruments-but still the rhythm carried them. They felt as one, with each other and with Paul. These were tears of sorrow and mourning, but also of solidarity and connection.
Henri began to smile, and the rest soon joined him. The rhythm quickened. Their combined music held power and energy. Marc felt relieved. A broad smile lit up his face, and the others were happy to see him this way. Then the situation had changed completely. Sorrow had made way for hope.
People have been making rhythmic music in groups, using drums. It is a tradition, wherein healing takes place through the spirit and the emotions, through contact with the body and its subtle powers of self-healing. In a recent study, physician Barry Bittman showed that making rhythmic music in a group affects our physical condition. Immune cells in particular are stimulated to greater activity.
1. The members of the group meet regularly to ___________________.| A．find a solution to their health problems | B．tell interesting stories |
| C．share their feelings and emotions | D．play music instruments |
| A．Marc couldn’t talk about what he felt. | B．Paul’s death made them feel sorrowful. |
| C．Jackie couldn’t facilitate other members. | D．Henri found it hard to express his sadness. |
| A．She gave him an encouraging smile. | B．She talked about her own experiences. |
| C．She taught him how to play djembe drums. | D．She paused and let the rhythm carry on. |
| A．Getting together makes people feel sorrowful. | B．It’s a tradition to make rhythmic music. |
| C．Why immune cells are stimulated to greater activity. | D．How music captures the rhythm of the soul. |
6 . Artist Susan Shepherd is best known for her flower paintings, and the large garden that surrounds her house is the source of many of her subjects. It is full of her favourite flowers, most especially vancties of tulips and poppies. Some of the plants are unruly and seed themselves all over the garden. There is a harmony of colour, shape and structure in the two long flower borders that line the paved path which crosses the garden from east to west. Much of this is due to the previous owners who were keen gardeners, and who left plants that appealed to Susan. She also inherited the gardener, Danny. “In fact, it was really his garden,” she says. “We got on very well. At first he would say, “Oh, it’s not worth it” to some of the things I wanted to put in, but when I said I wanted to paint them, he recognized what I had in mind.”
Susan prefers to focus on detailed studies of individual plants rather than on the garden as a whole, though she will occasionally paint a group of plants where they are. More usually, she picks them and then takes them up to her studio. “I don’t set the whole thing up at once,” she says. “I take one flower up at once,” she says. “I take one flower out and paint it, which might take a few days, and then I bring in another one and build up the painting that way. Sometimes it takes a couple of years to finish.”
Her busiest time of year is spring and early summer, when the tulips are out, followed by the poppies. “They all come out together, and you’re so busy,” she says. But the gradual decaying process is also part of the fascination for her. With tulips, for example, “you bring them in and put them in water, then leave them for perhaps a day and they each form themselves into different shapes. They open out and are fantastic. When you first put them in a vase, you think they are boring, but they change all the time with twists and turns.”
1. In the first paragraph, the author describes Susan’s garden as ________.| A．being only partly finished |
| B．having a path lined with flowers |
| C．having caused problems for the previous owners |
| D．needing a lot of work to keep it looking attractive |
| A．He felt she was interfering in his work. |
| B．He immediately understood her feelings. |
| C．He was recommended by the previous owners. |
| D．He was slow to see the point of some of her ideas. |
| A．She creates her paintings in several stages. |
| B．She spends all day painting an individual flower. |
| C．She likes to do research on a plant before she paints it. |
| D．She will wait until a flower is ready to be picked before painting it. |
| A．look best some time after they have been cut. |
| B．should be kept in the house for as long as possible. |
| C．are not easy to paint because they change so quickly. |
| D．are more colourful and better shaped than other flowers. |
7 . I was the only kid in college with a reason to go to the mail box, because my mother never believed in email, in Facebook, in texting or cell phones. I was literally waiting by the mailbox to get a letter with a warmest comfort from her.
So when I moved to New York and got depressed, I did the only thing I could think of. I wrote those same kinds of letters like my mother for strangers, and tucked them all over the city: in cafes, in libraries, and even in the subway. I blogged about those letters and promised if asked for a hand-written letter, I would write one.
Overnight, my inbox became this harbor of heartbreak — a single mother in Sacramento, a girl being bullied in Kansas, a 22-year-old immigrant, all asking me to write them and give them a reason to wait by the mailbox. And this is how I initiated the act The World Needs More Love Letters.
Today I run a global organization fueled by those trips to the mailbox. It is a miracle. But the thing about these letters is that most of them have been written by people brought up in a paperless world where some best conversations happen on a screen. We have learned to diary our pain onto Facebook, and we speak swiftly in twitter.
Therefore, I’ve been carrying this mail crate (大木箱) with me these days, which is a magical icebreaker. So I get to tell total strangers about a woman whose husband was traumatized (受精神创伤) from war, and how she left love letters throughout the house saying, “Come back to me.” And a man, who had decided to take his life, slept safely with a stack of letters just beneath his pillow, handwritten by strangers who were there for him.
These stories convince me that letter-writing will never need to be about efficiency, because it is an art now, all of it: the signing, the scripting, the mailing.
1. Why did the author share her experience in college?| A．To show her care for her family. | B．To convey her love for writing letters. |
| C．To express her feelings attached to letters. | D．To prove her consistency in writing letters. |
| A．She advocated the paperless lifestyle. | B．She intended to provide professional aid. |
| C．She tried to improve her communication skills. | D．She aimed to give emotional support with letters. |
| A．It cures people of mental diseases. | B．It serves as a conversation starter. |
| C．It has magic power to melt ice. | D．It empowers people to be brave. |
| A．Family Letters Are Priceless | B．Love for Writing Never Declines |
| C．World Needs More Love Letters | D．Hand-written Letters Improve Efficiency |
8 . Growing up in Ukraine, Vadim didn’t know what it was like to live in a safe, stable home. His parents were alcoholics who would often beat him. They’d even stuff him into a wine container, breaking his little body and leaving only a small opening at the top so he could breathe and see — but only just a little.
By the time Vadim turned 9, he was living in an orphanage (孤儿院). Unfortunately, as is the case with far too many little ones, his life only got worse there. Not only was he hurt, but he was placed in a room on the third floor, making it impossible to get downstairs in a wheelchair.
This left Vadim crawling up and down the stairs, an activity that was both physically and mentally exhausting. He’d often be late for meals. If the food wasn’t already gone by the time he arrived, other kids would steal from him.
Then, a chain effect began when some special folks visited the orphanage. They told him a story about a spiritual figure who advocated love and forgiveness. This conversation helped the 14-year-old find his faith and, in turn, he had more hope than he ever had before.
Today, Vadim is on longer the boy subject to fate. He is a father to his own kids, and his life couldn’t be more different or better. Over the years, he’s discovered a gift for expressing himself through art. This inspired Tim Tebow Foundation, an organization fighting for the most vulnerable (脆弱的) people around the world, to ask if he’d like to create a piece that represented what it looked and felt like for him to have gone from “darkness to light.”
The result? A truly remarkable painting that features Vadim, in his wheelchair, leaving behind his old home, including the wine container his parents stuffed him into. His new direction includes a beautiful forest full of fall leaves and bright light, showing the hope he is said to have found in the inspiring story.
1. According to the passage, Vadim’s parents treated him ________.| A．abusively | B．forgivingly | C．thoughtfully | D．strictly |
| A．Because his little roommates often did damage to his wheelchair. |
| B．Because other children would take his meal without permission. |
| C．Because he couldn’t use the wheelchair to go downstairs from a high floor. |
| D．Because getting downstairs was demanding for him physically and mentally. |
| A．an effective treatment for Vadim’s disability |
| B．a series of positive changes occurring in Vadim’s life |
| C．a sense of hope from the story of a spiritual figure |
| D．a helping hand from Tim Tebow Foundation |
| A．He admires the beauty and harmony of nature. |
| B．He leads a miserable life with his own kids. |
| C．He excels in delicate painting techniques. |
| D．He says farewell to the past and harvests happiness. |
9 . A year ago, my wife and I sold one of our cars and replaced it with an e-bike. I knew that passenger vehicles are responsible for much of our greenhouse-gas emissions. I also knew that electric cars were an imperfect fix. Though they’re responsible for less carbon pollution than gas cars, their supply chain is carbon intensive. But an e-bike’s comparatively tiny battery means less electricity, fewer emissions and fewer resources. E-bikes are clearly better for the planet than cars of any kind.
But I also viewed getting rid of my car as a sacrifice. I live in Colorado; e-biking would mean freezing in winter and sweating in summer. It was the right thing to do, I thought, but it was not going to be fun.
I was very wrong. The first thing I noticed was the savings. Between car payments, insurance, maintenance (保养), and gas, a car-centered lifestyle is expensive. I predict that we’ll save about $50,000 over the next five years by selling our car.
The actual experience of riding to work each day over the past year has been equally surprising. In winter, I wear gloves, warm socks, a thick cap, and a ski jacket when I ride, and I am almost never too cold. In summer, I didn’t break a sweat. I just used the throttle (油门), sat back, and enjoyed my ride.
I arrived to work a little more lighthearted for having spent the morning in fresh air rather than traffic. I jumped on my bike after a stressful day at work and rode home down a street edged with changing fall leaves. I felt more connected to the physical environment around me than I had when I’d traveled the same route surrounded by metal and glass.
1. Why did the author change a car for an e-bike?| A．He wanted to do something good for environment. |
| B．He thought that e-bikes would replace gas vehicles. |
| C．He couldn’t afford the expensive transportation costs. |
| D．He believed e-bike’s supply chain was environment-friendly. |
| A．The traffic safety. | B．The traffic comfort. |
| C．The traffic economy. | D．The traffic convenience. |
| A．Tolerant. | B．Unexpected. | C．Conservative. | D．Compromising. |
| A．Changes Brought by an E-bike | B．My Green Life for the Last Year |
| C．The Replacement for Gas Vehicles | D．Comparation Between Cars and E-bikes |
10 . My sister, Lynn, taught me my first word: kira-kira. I pronounced it ka-a-ahhh, but she knew what I meant. Kira-kira means “glittering” in Japanese. Lynn told me that when I was a baby, she used to take me onto our empty road at night, where we would lie on our backs and look at the stars while she said over and over, “Katie, say ‘kira-kira, kira-kira!’” I loved that word! When I grew older, I used kira-kira to describe everything I liked: the beautiful blue sky, puppies, kittens, butterflies, colored tissues.
My mother said we were misusing the word; you could not call colored tissues kira-kira. She was dismayed over how un-Japanese we were and swore to send us to Japan one day. I didn’t care where she sent me, so long as Lynn came along.
When she wasn’t in school, she stayed with me constantly. Both our parents worked. Officially, I stayed all day with a lady from down the road, but unofficially, Lynn was the one who took care of me.
My sister used to keep a diary. Today I keep her diary in a drawer next to my bed. I like to see how her memories were the same as mine, but also different. For instance, one of my earliest memories is of the day Lynn saved my life. I was almost five, and she was almost nine. We were playing on the empty road near our house. Fields of tall corn stretched into the distance wherever you looked. A dirty gray dog ran out of the field near us, and then he ran back in. Lynn loved animals. Her long black hair disappeared into the corn as she chased the dog. The summer sky was clear and blue. I felt a brief fear as Lynn disappeared into the cornstalks. After Lynn ran into the field, I couldn’t see anything but corn. “Lynnie!” I shouted. We weren’t that far from our house, but I felt scared. I burst into tears.
Somehow or other, Lynn got behind me and said, “Boo!” and I cried some more. She just laughed and hugged me and said, “You’re the best little sister in the world!” I liked it when she said that, so I stopped crying.
1. What can be learned about Katie as a little child from the first paragraph?| A．She only listened to Lynn’s advice. |
| B．She didn’t like to learn the Japanese language. |
| C．She mispronounced kira-kira on purpose. |
| D．She associated kira-kira with nice things. |
| A．discouraged | B．amused | C．relieved | D．unconvinced |
| A．...I was sure that the dog would hurt Katie... |
| B．...My heart melted at the sight of the lovely dog... |
| C．...I kept chasing the dog until Katie appeared... |
| D．...I regretted taking Katie out when I saw the dog... |
| A．sing praise of her Japanese roots | B．share an adventurous experience |
| C．recall unique style of language learning | D．show the sisterly affection |
