People from every corner1into the streets that Christmas Eve. "Frosty the Snowman," and "Jingle Bells"2in stores; on the pavements, the street singers performed happily. Everyone was3by someone else, delighted and cheerful. I was alone.

    As one of 8 kids of a Brazilian family, brought up in America's crowded apartment, I'd spent several years searching for aloneness. Now4 at 27, a college student after the5with my girlfriend, every cell inside me wanted to be alone6not at Christmas. My family had returned to Brazil and my friends were7with their own lives. Dusk was approaching, and the fact that I had to return to my8home made me sad. Lights from windows blinked , and I hoped someone would 9from one of those homes to invite me inside with a Christmas tree decorated with shiny fake snow and beautiful10.

    At a market, I felt more11when people were buying lots of goods, which12the gifts we received as children in my mind. I missed my family and wanted to cry for wanting to be alone and for having achieved it.

Outside the church, a manger(小耶稣) had been set up . I stood silently watching the 13 some of people were crossing themselves,14.As I walked home, I realized that leaving Brazil was still a painful experience as I struggled with15 I had become in 15 years in America. I16 the losses, but for the first time, I recognized what I'd gained. I was independent17and healthy. My life was still ahead, full of18

    Sometimes the best gift is the one that you give yourself. That Christmas, I gave myself19for what I'd obtained up to now and promise to go forward. It is the best gift I've ever got, the one that I most20.

    Alice was very worried about her dad. For some time now she had noticed he was 1 his hair. One day, she asked him, “Daddy, every day you have less hair.2 is that?” Her father smiled and said, “It's the hair thief. He visits my head during the night when I'm 3. One by one he 4 out my hair, as much as he likes.”

    This worried Alice but she was 5 to help her father. That very night she stayed 6 as long as she could. When she was 7 her dad and mom had fallen asleep, she took a hammer and went straight to their bedroom. She walked carefully in order not to make any 8. She didn't want the hair thief to hear her. Then she began carefully 9 her father's head. When she arrived at her father's side, she began looking at his head,10to catch the hair thief as soon as he appeared. Before long, she saw a shadow on it and 11 all her strength, she swung the hammer down.

    Thwack! Her father 12a loud cry. The lump(肿块) on his head was big and growing.13 with shock, he turned the light on and saw Alice waving her hammer in the 14 with her hands. “Daddy, I 15 got him. I thought I 16 him, but it looks like he escaped!” said Alice. At the same time, the mother woke up. She 17laughing when she knew what had happened.

    So Alice's father had to 18to her that the hair thief didn't exist, and that losing hair is something that just happens 19 to most daddies. And Alice still worried about her daddy, but she no longer waited for the hair thief.20 , she bought her daddy a very nice sleeping hat.

    When my wife and I decided to open our bookstore in 2012, we were a little 1.

    The challenges facing small bookstores were—and remain— 2. Aside from the obvious 3 in online selling, the increase in the popularity of e-books has had a（n）4 effect on independent providers.

    The question is why a new, small-scale（小规模的）provider would 5 enter such a（n）6 market?

    From a personal view, our reasoning was sound: we wanted to 7 our love of great books and reading for pleasure with as many 8 people as possible.

    Having done our homework, one thing became 9. In order for us to succeed, we would have to offer something that none of our larger competitors already provided.

    And so we 10 the Willoughby Book Club. We set up our website in the summer of 2012—and we haven't looked back.

    The idea of 11 is simple. We offer a range of book subscription gift packages, 12 in three-, six- and 12-month options. Our customers 13 a package, tell us a little about the person they're buying it for, and we use this information to 14 the（接收者）a hand-picked, gift-wrapped（包装的）book once a month.

    We also recently decided to 15 one new book to Book Aid International for every gift subscription sold. These books are sent out to sub-Saharan Africa, 16 the educational work there.

    Within four months of starting out, we won the Young Bookseller of the Year award at the 2013 Bookseller awards.

    Our brief 17 from new booksellers to award receivers has been challenging and 18. The biggest thing we've learned is that, despite the 19 facing independent providers, there is a 20 for then in the UK market. It's just a question of finding it.

    I would lose things. One1, my parents bought me a brown coat with a matching separate2to protect me from the snowy weather. They had3to buy me a coat with a hood(连衣帽) because they knew my weakness but I begged and promised that I would not lose the hat.

    One day my father came home from work and asked me if I would4my new coat and hat. Upstairs I rushed two steps at a time,5to put on a fashion show. I pulled on the coat but I couldn't find the hat. I6looked under my bed and in the closet, but it was7. Maybe he wouldn't8that I wasn't wearing it.

    I flew9and spun around10on a stage, posing, smiling and modeling my new coat. “How pretty! More pretty with the matching hat!” he said. “I just want to show you the coat.” I said, still dancing around the hallway and trying to avoid the subject of the hat. I knew the hat was11.

    12, my father seemed to have forgotten it, laughing and playing with me.13, in the middle of his laughing, he slapped me hard on the face. His14stung me deeply. I stood there, holding my hand to my burning cheek and15. Then he took my new hat16his pocket. He had found it lying on the street, and as he looked at me over the top of glasses, he said, “Maybe now you'll learn not to be17.”

    I'm a grown woman now, but I18lose things. What my father taught me that day was not a lesson of19. I learned not to20his laughter any longer, because even his laughter hurt.

I was ready for bed. My eyes fell on the musical 1 on my bedside table. In it was a photo of Dad smiling, and once opened, it would play his 2 song recorded before his death. It was propped(支，撑)open just enough so the recording wouldn't play.

Dad was a 3 man. He was always singing me his little made-up songs to share joy although he was 4 off-key, not hitting every note.

Dad was a man with big heart. When my house burned down a few years ago, Dad 5 my family into his home. When we tried to offer some 6, he said with his characteristic voice, "Don't be 7!"

With happy 8, I fell asleep.

"Beautiful and marvelous-!"

Suddenly, was awoken hours later by the 9 song. The card! I snapped it shut(啪的一声合上).

How did that card just start playing? I checked the windows, all tightly shut. But why couldn't I 10 the feeling that something was wrong?

I decided to 11 downstairs. Opening the door to the laundry room, I was hit with a strong smell of 12. The heat lamp had fallen, and the carpet was burning.

The 13 wasn't too bad. I let out a shaky breath with 14. What could have happened? Perhaps another house fire. . . But we were safe. All thanks to Dad's one-of-a-kind 15.

(2023年·广州二模)

In 1977, Irene Pepperberg, a Harvard graduate, decided to investigate the thought processes of another creature by talking to it. To do this, she would teach a one-year-old African gray parrot(鹦鹉), Alex, to reproduce the sounds of the English language.

Pepperberg bought Alex in a pet store, where she let the store's assistant choose him because she didn't want other scientists to say that she had intentionally chosen an especially smart bird. Given that Alex's brain was just the size of a walnut, most researchers thought Pepperberg's communication study would be futile(徒劳的).

But with Pepperberg's patient teaching, Alex learned how to follow almost 100 English words. He could count to six and had learned the sound for seven and eight. But the point was not to see if Alex could learn words by heart. Pepperberg wanted to get inside his mind and learn more about a bird's understanding of the world.

In one demonstration, Pepperberg held up a green key and a green cup for him to look at. "What's the same?" she asked. "Co-lour," Alex responded without hesitation. "What's different?" Pepperberg asked. "Shape," Alex quickly replied. His voice had the sound of a cartoon character. But the words—and what can only be called the thoughts—were entirely his. Many of Alex's skills, such as his ability to understand the concepts of "same" and "different", are rare in the animal world. Living in a complex society, parrots like Alex must keep track of changing relationships and environments.

During the demonstration, as if to offer final proof of the mind inside his bird's brain, Alex spoke up. "Talk clearly!" he commanded, when one of the younger birds Pepperberg was also teaching mispronounced the word "green". Alex knew all the answers himself and was getting bored. "He's moody," said Pepperberg, "so he interrupts the others, or he gives the wrong answer just to be difficult." Pepperberg was certainly learning more about the mind of a parrot, but like the parent of a troublesome teenager, she was learning the hard way.