It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.

     “Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said. “Why?” “He was in despair.” “What about?” “Nothing.” “How do you know it was nothing?” “He has plenty of money.”

    They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and a soldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brass number on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurried beside him.

     “The guard will pick him up,” one waiter said. “What does it matter if he gets what he's after?” “He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. They went by five minutes ago.”

    The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.

     “What do you want?” The old man looked at him. “Another brandy,” he said.

     “You'll be drunk,” the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.

     “He'll stay all night,” he said to his colleague. “I'm sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killed himself last week.”

    The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.

     “You should have killed yourself last week,” he said to the deaf man. The old man motioned with his finger. “A little more,” he said. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile. “Thank you,” the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe.He sat down at the table with his colleague again.

     “He's drunk now,” he said. “He's drunk every night.” “What did he want to kill himself for?” “How should I know.” “How did he do it?” “He hung himself with a rope.” “Who cut him down?” “His niece.” “Why did they do it?” “Fear for his soul.” “How much money has he got?” “He's got plenty.” “He must be eighty years old.” “Anyway I should say he was eighty.” “I wish he would go home.I never get to bed before three o'clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?” “He stays up because he likes it.” “He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me.” “He had a wife once too.” “A wife would be no good to him now.” “You can't tell. He might be better with a wife.” “His niece looks after him.You said she cut him down.” “I know.” “I wouldn't want to be that old.An old man is a nasty thing.” “Not always.This old man is clean.He drinks without spilling.Even now, drunk.Look at him.” “I don't want to look at him.I wish he would go home.He has no regard for those who must work.”

    The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.

     “Another brandy,” he said, pointing to his glass.The waiter who was in a hurry came over.

     “Finished,” he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. “No more tonight. Close now.”

     “Another,” said the old man.

     “No. Finished.” The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head.

    The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.

     “Why didn't you let him stay and drink?” the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. “It is not half past two.” “I want to go home to bed.” “What is an hour?” “More to me than to him.” “An hour is the same.” “You talk like an old man yourself.He can buy a bottle and drink at home.” “It's not the same.” “No, it is not,” agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry. “And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?” “Are you trying to insult me?” “No, hombre, only to make a joke.”

     “No,” the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters.“I have confidence.I am all confidence.” “You have youth, confidence, and a job,” the older waiter said.“You have everything.” “And what do you lack?” “Everything but work.” “You have everything I have.” “No.I have never had confidence and I am not young.” “Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up.” “I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe,” the older waiter said.“With all those who do not want to go to bed.With all those who need a light for the night.” “I want to go home and into bed.” “We are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said.He was now dressed to go home.“It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be someone who needs the cafe.” “Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long.” “You do not understand.This is a clean and pleasant cafe.It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves.”

“Good night,” said the younger waiter.

     “Good night,” the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself. It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music.Certainly you do not want music.Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that is provided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada.

    He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

     “What's yours?” asked the barman.

     “Nada.” “Otro loco mas,” said the barman and turned away.

     “A little cup,” said the waiter.

    The barman poured it for him.

     “The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,” the waiter said.

    The barman looked at him but did not answer.It was too late at night for conversation.

     “You want another copita?” the barman asked.

     “No, thank you,” said the waiter and went out.He disliked bars and bodegas.A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing.Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room.He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep.After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

    The American dream is the faith held by many people in the United States of America that through hard work, courage, creativity and determination, they can achieve a better life for themselves. More specifically, they agree on how to get ahead in America: get a college education, find a reliable job, and buy their own house. But do Americans still believe in that path, and if they do, is it attainable?

    The most recent National Journal poll(民意测验，投票) asked participants about the American dream, what it takes to achieve their goal, and whether or not they felt the control over their ability to be successful. Obviously, the results show that today, the idea of the American dream and what it takes to achieve it looks quite different from it did in the late 20th century. By the large, people felt that their actions and hard work — not outside forces — were the deciding factors in how their lives turned out. But the participants had definitely mixed feelings about what actions make for a better life in the current economy.

    In the last seven years, Americans have grown more pessimistic about the power of education to lead to success. Even though they see going to college as a fairly achievable goal, a majority 52 percent think that young people do not need a 4-year college education in order to be successful.

    Miguel Maeda, 42, who has a master's degree and works in public health, was the first in his family to go to college, which has allowed him to achieve a sense of financial stability(稳定) his parents and grandparents never did. While some, like Maeda, emphasized the value of a degree rather than the education itself, others still see college as a way to gain new viewpoints and life experiences. Sixty-year-old Will Fendley, who had a successful career in the military and never earned a college degree, think “personal drive” is far more important than just go to college. To Fendley, a sense of drive and purpose, as well as an effective high-school education, and basic life skills, like balancing a checkbook(支票簿), are the necessary elements for a successful life in America.

    It doesn't matter when or how much a person sleeps, but everyone needs some rest to stay alive. That's what all doctors thought, until they heard about AI Herpin. AI Herpin, it was said, never slept, Could this be true? The doctors decided to see this strange man themselves.

    AI Herpin was 90 years old when the doctors came to his home in New Jersey. They thought for sure that he got some sleep of some kind. So they stayed with him and watched every movement he made. But they were surprised. Though they watched him hour after hour and day after day, they never saw Herpin sleeping, In fact, he did not even own a bed. He never needed one.

    The only rest that Herpin sometimes got was sitting in a comfortable chair and reading newspapers. The doctors were puzzled by this strange continuous sleeplessness. They found only one answer that might explain his condition. Herpin remembered some talk about his mother having been injured several days before he was born. But that was all. Was this the real reason? No one could be sure.

    Herpin died at the age of 94.

    On one occasion, while visiting my parents, I happened to meet the little boy who lived next door. It was obvious that his mother had told him not to come over uninvited. He was standing on the very edge of his yard with an anxious look on his face, seemingly about to burst.

    My father waved him over and performed the introductions. "Eliot, this is my son, Gary. Gary, meet my little friend, Eliot." To my delight, he reached out his small hand and I accepted the formality(遵守礼节) with a smile.

    Unlike most children, this teenager was not shy of meeting a stranger. As a matter of fact, he turned out to be quite a chatterbox. Eliot had me laughing as I listened to the excitement in his voice. for, as you know, it was a big deal to find a toad (蟾蜍)! His descriptions were priceless as I asked the obvious questions concerning the capture(捕捉). He was pleased that I showed interest in his adventure and gladly explained its details.

    Since Eliot seemed so willing to invest in our budding friendship, I asked him a question, "Do you like banjo music?" He got very excited and answered me with a hearty "Yes!"

    I took out my banjo from the car, but when I sat next to him and started playing, Eliot looked at me with a puzzled expression. He asked me "What's that?" in all seriousness.

    My dad and I smiled. The boy who just "loved" the banjo didn't recognize that I was holding one and that what I was playing was "banjo music".

    I realized that his heart was in the right place. Eliot just wanted to please his new friend with that "Yes", thinking it was what I wanted to hear.

    Well anyway...Eliot likes the banjo for real now. And I like Eliot.

Plastic sludge (污泥) and garbage is a disaster for the world's oceans. A film crew traveled the globe to document the rubbish. And Julie Andersen of the Plastic Oceans Foundation says what we see is just the tip of the problem. "Half of the waste actually sinks to the bottom, and that remains on the surface actually breaks down. "

The filmmakers found rubbish in ocean gyres, the circulating currents that trap large concentrations of pollution in the Atlantic, Indian, and Pacific Oceans, home of what some have plastic. "What we found was a plastic smog that spread throughout all the water. And in some parts of the oceans, scientists have found more plastic than plant. "

The pieces of the plastic garbage infect the food chain, sometimes visibly，and more so at the microscopic level, where the plastic particles interact with other pollutants. "There are heavy metals, medicines, industrial waste in the sea, while they acts like magnets (磁铁). These poisonous substances absorb on the plastic, and then when seafood absorbs the plastics, those poisonous substances enter the fatty tissues. " To be consumed by other sea life and by people at last.

China, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand and Vietnam are the worst plastic polluters. The United States, although a leader in recycling, is one of the world's 20 since it produces and consumes so much plastic. There are efforts around the world to address the problem, including at this newly opened recycling center in Lebanon (黎巴嫩). But Andersen says there is more that people can do. "Cut back on single­use plastics, straws, plastic cups, plastic water bottles, plastic bags and find alternatives like reusable materials. " She says healthy oceans are essential to our survival.

The world has been extremely impressed by China's high-speed trains that cross the country by the hundreds in all directions every day, but in one corner of this vast land is a gentle reminder that life was not always this fast.

Those fortunate enough to travel to Jiayang in Sichuan province will find railway carriages dragged by steam locomotives(火车头), among the last steam trains operating in China and still running every day. First used to transport coal from Jiayang Coal Mine 62 years ago, today they transport local farmers and their produce to market and serve as a tourist attraction.

"In the early days of the railway, farmers headed for the farm produce market sitting beside coal," said Liu Chengxi, the Jiayang official in charge of the trains. "As coal production has stopped, the trains are now exclusively(专门地)for farmers and tourists."

The narrow railway, only 76.2 cm instead of the standard 144 cm, stretches for 19. 84 km, with the trains reaching a top speed of 20 km/h.

A one-way ticket costs 5 yuan for seated passengers and 3 yuan for standing passengers on the ordinary trains regardless of whether they are travelling empty-handed or with animals or vegetables. But Li Cuirong, who has worked as a train dispatcher(调度员)for more than 20 years, recommends tourists pay 80 yuan for a sightseeing train, as the carriages, which have 37 seats, are more comfortable and air-conditioned. A one-way trip takes about one and a half hours.

The scenery is dramatic as the train winds through the mountain, passengers can view chickens and geese wandering among the orange trees and butterflies dancing over the fields and ponds.

Rob Dickinson, a steam train lover from the United Kingdom, has ridden the trains twice. He hopes the narrow line can last long enough for him to find the time to get back again.