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Eric was a nine-year-old boy who lived with his single mother, Stacey and sister, Lily. They lived a hard life. Eric felt bad for their situation but worse for himself, especially in school.

Eric's leather boots were worn out. They didn't protect his feet from the rain, and his socks became totally wet as water went through the holes in his shoes. Stacey attempted to fix the holes but it was no use. Eric still walked to school with that pair of broken shoes. How much he wished he could also have new comfortable and expensive shoes his classmates wore!

One day, Eric returned from school and complained to Stacey, "It was raining today. Water has leaked into my shoes again. I hate my boots! Why can't you get me new ones?" Stacey was sad and helpless. "I spent our last savings on your sister's medicine. She's sick. Eric you know that. You need to act like a responsible big brother!" she answered. Tears welled up in Eric's eyes. "I hate you!" he shouted. "You only care about Lily! You don't love me!" Then he cried and ran to his room.

After preparing dinner, Stacey went to his room with his dinner plate. "I'm sorry, Eric," she whispered to comfort him. "We're going through a very tough journey recently. But I'll get you new shoes in the future." However, Eric refused to listen to her.

The next day, when Eric went to class, he took his seat quietly and hid his feet under his chair, as usual. He was embarrassed to show his boots. As the math teacher Mrs Fletcher entered the class, all the students greeted her. "Today, we have a very special friend with us," she smiled. "Everyone, please welcome Ben, your new classmate." Soon after, a boy with a pair of crutches(拐杖)entered. The new boy only had one leg. Eric was shocked. He and all his classmates thought how unlucky Ben was and that he must be very shy and sad.

注意：1.续写词数应为150左右;2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。

Paragraph 1: At that moment, Mrs Fletcher asked Ben to introduce himself. 

Paragraph 2: Inspired by Ben, Eric realized he should appreciate what he had. 

Lily loved school. However, there was one class Lily worried about more than any other—art. She didn't know why she just wasn't any good at drawing, painting, or cutting.

Ms. Clay, the art teacher, stood at the front of the room. "Class, next Friday our school is going to have an art competition," she announced. Ms. Clay was a great teacher, and Lily liked her a lot. But this announcement made Lily nervous. "Everyone in the school will create a piece of artwork to show in the library. You can use the different types of artwork we have been studying." Ms. Clay was quite excited when she spoke while Lily found herself sinking lower in her chair.

Lily had the whole weekend to work on her project, but she could not think of anything to do. On Monday, Lily felt frightened, so after school Lily asked Ms. Clay if she could write an art paper instead of doing an art project.

"I understand this project scared you, Lily," Ms. Clay said. "Just remember, you can create any kind of art you want." Ms. Clay smiled at her. "Art is a person's way of expressing his or her feelings—it isn't always painting, drawing, or cutting. I know you will think of something very creative, and I can't wait to see it."

When Lily arrived home, she took out a piece of paper and a pencil. She remembered Ms. Clay's words. "Art is a person's way of expressing his or her feelings." Lily wrote the word "terrified" on her paper. She crumpled (揉皱) the paper and threw it to the side of her desk.

Then Lily stared at the crumpled ball. Suddenly an idea struck her.

Paragraph 1：

Why not create something out of crumpled paper?

Paragraph 2：

On Friday, Lily carefully carried her project into the library.

Grief ran through the first decade of my career. I photographed stories about terrible topics: immigration, conflict, war. On the cover of my notebook in 2019, I wrote, "Discover the joy again." It was intended to remind me to play more.

Sometimes I'd get a rare assignment where I could breathe — for example, photographing an article on tea for an airline magazine. I took the job hoping to make interesting, almost movie images, but at the end of the day, I found I'd made nothing of the sort. Packing up my camera, I felt like a failure.

On the drive back to the hotel, I noticed heavy steam rising from a building up ahead. Arriving at the scene, I opened the car door — and realized it was a tourist attraction traditionally pulled by a steam engine. Then, out of nowhere, a figure ran toward me. I picked up my camera and quickly made three pictures. One was out of focus. One was poorly composed. But one worked.

When I submitted my pictures to the editor for the tea article, this one wasn't chosen to be published, but I knew it meant something to me. I had been looking for good luck in my own life. This photograph symbolized exactly that.

I was 27 when I first traveled to India after the sudden passing of my father. Over many months, with my best friend, I traversed India with no phone, with limited Internet, and with healing as my compass. I climbed mountains, swam in the sea, and lived in relief entirely.

As I learned to travel to some of the world's cities with the largest population, I began to see life with more color and magic. I permitted myself to walk aimlessly, with no goal but to observe, and each moment became a dance. If this journey taught me anything, it's that what comes next will bring its own magic.

I had a terrible experience last year. One night my younger brother, Chase, was driving us home from our weekly cleaning of the church. We were both getting 1 , so we picked up a couple of energy drinks at a gas station. Then we jumped onto the freeway and 2 home.

The ride was fine. My brother was focused, so I 3 my eyes. I woke up when we were close to our exit. But the car 4 turned to the right. I did not care at first because Chase often played jokes. Then I 5 it was not a joke at all.

I shouted my brother's name at the top of my 6 . He woke up from his sleep in time to slam on the brakes, though the brakes did little to 7 us down. We crashed into a streetlight, 8 us hit the dirt hill of the off-ramp (出口匝道).

Then I 9 something white and bright shoot toward my chest. It hit me and left me breathless but 10 me from the dashboard (仪表盘). The streetlight swung around, hitting two other 11 and then crashed back onto the hood of our car. One inch 12 to us, Chase and I wouldn't be here today. A kind man 13 us out of our car, and the policeman came to 14 us. They said there were no broken ribs (肋骨) and no internal bleeding.

Our dad 15 on the scene in his car and drove us home. From that day on, we never drove while we were sleepy or tired again.