For most people having things stolen feels like an offence. Robbie Pruitt admitted that he got1 when he discovered the theft of his mountain bike last September. But soon enough, his2 took a turn.

After letting go of his anger and frustration, he found himself on a road to sympathy3 .

For Pruitt, a keen bicyclist, the first thing to do was4 his stolen bike. But when he went bike shopping, he found few available, which got him thinking: What if the5 of bikes was Covid-19 related, and what if the person who'd taken his bike really needed6 to get to work?

With that thought in mind, Pruitt7 a plan and posted it on the community website. He8 to repair bikes free of charge for anyone who needed it. He also asked for unwanted bikes, which he would repair—again9 . And then he would donate them to folks who could truly use them but didn't have the 10 to buy one.

The day the post went live, Pruitt received thirty11 bicycles. Then came more than 50012 for detailed information. By the end of 2022, Pruitt had repaired more than 140 for donation or to be13 to their owners.

Pruitt tries to give his donations to families that are14 struggling. Upon satisfying a material need, he has provided an opportunity for kids in his neighborhood to learn how to15 their own bikes.

In addition to16 skills, Pruitt's lessons teach teamwork, encourage self-worth, and promote feelings of community.17 , the kids have gained a sense of accomplishment.

"It's a really great18 for kids," said a neighbor in an interview with the local newspaper. "Pruitt is certainly providing a19 , but it's not just the bikes. It's the relationships in the community. It's the20 he can make on people."

Eighty-year-old retired tailor, James McKay, spent Saturday night in prison after hitting 30-year-old Keith Smith over the head with his walking stick. McKay's wife, Laurene said that, while McKay is usually a（n）1 and pleasant person, he had been driven to this act of2 by literally getting wet just once too often. He could no longer3 it.

Smith lives above the McKays. He is a（n）4 gardener, and also a fish collector. Unfortunately, the water he5 over his balcony（平台）every day ended up on the McKay's floor, or too often, on the unsuspecting McKays themselves.

"For the last two weeks, since Smith moved into the flat above us, we dared not go onto our6 ," said Laurene. She added that it wasn't only the water7 their balcony from Smith watering his plants that8 them, but also the way he cleaned his fish9 . "We'd be sitting there happily reading our newspapers, when suddenly so much water would come from above that we'd be as wet as if we had10 with our clothes on! We could hardly11 the smell of fish!"

And on Saturday evening it was just too12 , "It was James' birthday," Laurene recalled, "and it was such a beautiful night to enjoy the starry night13 . I made him a birthday cake. The candles were a great sight as you can14 , but James didn't get to blow them out." Instead,

Smith15 one of his larger tanks over his balcony and both the McKays and the cake were wet through. "I have never seen him move so fast and I couldn't stop him. He was up there in a（n）16 ."

Smith is not going to take things further with the police. He has also17 to change his ways from now on. And what of James McKay? As he left the18 station,a large crowd of supporters sang him "Happy Birthday". "Definitely the most exciting birthday ever!" said the19 old man. "The best since my20 , I'd say!"

The light from the campfire brightened the darkness, but it could not prevent the damp cold of Dennis's Swamp (沼泽地) creeping into their bones. It was a strange place. Martin and Tom wished that they had not accepted Jack'sdare. They liked camping, but not near this swamp.

"So," Martin asked as they sat watching the hot coals. "How did this place get its name?"

"Are you sure you want to hear it? It's a scary story," warned Jack.

"Of course!" cried out Tom. "If there were anything to be scared of, you wouldn't have chosen this place!"

"Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you," said Jack, and he began this tale.

"Way back in time, a man called Dennis tried to start a farm here. He built that cottage over there to live in. In those days, the area looked quite different — it was covered with tall trees and the swamp was a crystal-clear river. After three hard years, Dennis had cleared several fields and planted crops. He was so proud of his success that he refused to listen to advice.

"‘You are clearing too much land,' warned one old man. ‘The land is a living thing. It will hit back at you if you abuse it. '"

"‘Silly fool,' said Dennis to himself. ‘If I clear more land, I can grow more crops. I'll become wealthier. He's just jealous!'"

"Dennis continued to chop down trees. Small animals that relied on them for food and shelter were destroyed. He was so eager to expand his farm that he did not notice the river flowing slowly towards his door. He did not notice salt seeping to the surface of the land. He did not notice swamp plants choking all the native plants."

"What happened?" Martin asked. It was growing colder. He trembled, twisting his body closer to the fire.

"The land hit back — just as the old man warned," Jack shrugged. "Dennis disappeared. Old folks around here believe that swamp plants moved up from the river and dragged him underwater. His body was never found."

"What a stupid story," laughed Tom. "Plants can't …" Before he had finished speaking, he screamed and fainted (晕倒). The other two boys jumped up with fright, staring at Tom. Suddenly, they burst out laughing. Some green swamp ivy (常春藤) had covered Tom's face. It was a while before Tom could appreciate the joke.

I was cutting up lettuce in the kitchen when I suddenly remembered watching a video about soaking the lettuce stub (莴苣残余部分) in water to grow a whole new vegetable. So I took out a wide-mouthed cup and placed the stub into it, gave it a little water, and placed it by the window. 

On a snowy morning I noticed the first sign. A first small leaf from its heart spread out. A tiny green flag of hope. Beaten, but not defeated. This lettuce was not done living! Within days, it was impossible to see the cuts where I had removed the leaves. The growth was explosive. And when I lifted the blossoming head out of the cup, tiny root threads fell down, seeking for the earth. 

What is growing here? Lettuce or hope? 

If I were a lettuce in a similar condition, I'd want to skeptically assess where I found myself before committing to full growth. Yet for this lettuce, my inadequate offering of water and a place by a window was enough for it to decide to reclaim itself again. It grew in a cup of water, in faith. This is the heart of this lettuce: alive, strong and fearless. It deserved a name. I decided to call it Monty. 

Monty wanted to grow, as we all do. I think I gave him a little love and freedom. Those two were all he needed to return to himself. I see joy in this lettuce. The return to self is always an expression of joy, which is life itself. This is the tendency of all living things. 

Monty still lives in a cup, but I'm going to transplant him outside. He deserves to become his full self. The only problem I see now is my ability to support Monty. I hope I have enough of a green finger. 

I'm surprised to find myself where I am. Maybe Monty is, too. I have the same choice as he does: give in or start again. The prospect of starting again is discouraging. But my lettuce-friend, Monty, leads the way. I can only hope to be as brave.

It was not until photographer Rita Nannini left New York that she grew fascinated by the city's subways. While living in Manhattan for some 15 years in the 1980s and early 1990s, Nannini only commuted (通勤) on the one train-given the subway system's bad reputation. But after relocating to New Jersey for several years where subway is not an option, Nannini found that absence did make the heart grow fonder — maybe even for pizza rats. During her visit back to New York, Nannini nodded, noticing improvements in the subway's facilities.

While Nannini was waiting for a train, a bench on the platform opposite caught her attention due to the ever changing faces and characters. They were people of different accents, colors and beliefs. They were from all walks of life, a diverse mix of New Yorkers all there for their own different reasons. Having learned the teenagers' popular "End of the Line" challenge — boarding trains at random and riding them until their final destination; Nannini decided to visit every first and last stop across the NY subway's lines with her beloved camera.

Nannini's "End of the Line" experience saw her traveling some 665 miles across 26 routes in New York city. She took over 8,000 photos of the final stations, as well as the communities they served. In many cases, she rode the routes two or three times over to ensure she got "the shot". "The project really shows me how important the subway is, and how sustainable it makes our lives," she said 

"It's often said that my photos show the end of the lines — the last stops," she said. "But theend of the line is indeed the start for so many people. That made me think about who the people and the communities that live at the two ends are and what it is that the subway means to them."

Nannini was proud of her set of images directly challenging the traditions of story telling, which echoed both the boredom and excitement of travel on tracks.

Nannini enjoyed taking her time, starting her challenge in 2013 and only shooting the final photos last year. Her first monograph on the terminal stops of the NY subway was released in April 2023.

"When you drive in the suburbs, you don't have those encounters," she continued. "People enter your life on the subway. That's what strikes me most on my jouney on tracks."

After months of preparation, my husband Bill and I flew to China to welcome our new daughter, our 18-month-old angel "Shirley". But when we picked her up, Shirley missed her Chinese mother so 1 she would barely look at Bill and me. Instead, she'd stand at our hotel room door and 2 for the only mother she had known. 

I was so embarrassed that lunch in a restaurant was out of the 3 . I was afraid people would think I was a "bad mother. " So I 4 our meals from room service. 

One time I chose the noodle plate and tried to use chopsticks for the very first time. The noodles kept 5 off my chopsticks. At this time, Shirley's screaming suddenly stopped. 

Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I saw her sitting in the room corner 6 me attentively. And in no time, a tiny hand came into 7 , took the chopsticks from my big hand. As I looked up, Shirley — with the chopsticks skillfully arranged in her little fingers — began expertly feeding me noodles, without 8 a single one. 

I looked at Bill, who was wide-eyed with 9 . "Do you think she would 10 me?" he wondered 11 . So, trembling with 12 , I asked, "Shirley, will you feed your daddy now?" and 13 to Bob. She nodded "yes" with a big smile on her face!

That meal was definitely a 14 experience. Shirley must have felt that we would 15 without her assistance!