It's dark outside, and when it snows or rains, this place often looks extremely dark and lonely. There is no light here, except a lonely little light in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall. At the other end of the street, near the wooden fence of the ferry, you can clearly hear the sound of water at this time. Such a night is long and lonely, unless people can find something to do. Packing and unpacking is not a daily thing; And people can't always clean scales or make paper bags. So people have to find something else to do. This is how old Anton kills time. He sews clothes and mendes shoes. When he finally went to bed, he put a nightcap on his head as usual. He pulled it down, but soon he pushed it up again to see if the light was completely out. He touched the lamp, twisted the wick, then turned over and lay down, pulling the nightcap down a little. At this time, his heart began to wonder again: has every charcoal in the small brazier below been extinguished and crushed? There may be a small spark before it goes out, which can ignite the whole fire again and lead to disaster. So he got out of bed and climbed down the ladder-because we can hardly call it a "staircase" ladder. When he came to the fire bowl, he couldn't see a spark; He may have turned back. But when he was halfway there, he remembered that the latch might not be inserted properly and the sash might not be fastened properly. Yes, his skinny legs had to send him downstairs again. When he climbed into bed again, his whole body was frozen and his teeth trembled in his mouth, because when the cold knew that he would not stay long, he became presumptuous. He pulled the quilt tighter, pulled the nightcap lower and covered his eyebrows, and then his thoughts turned from business and the troubles of the day to other issues. But this is not a pleasant thing, because many memories come at this moment, and a curtain is put down around him, and these curtains often have sharp needles. People often hurt themselves with these needles and shout "Oh!" These thorns pierce the meat, causing fever and tears. Old Anton is always like this-tears come out. Big tears rolled all the way to the quilt or the floor. They dripped loudly, as if his painful heartstrings had been broken. Sometimes they burn like flames, giving him a picture of life-a picture that will never die in his heart. If he wipes his eyes with a nightcap, the tears and pictures will indeed be shattered, but the source of the tears has not wavered at all and remains hidden in his heart. These pictures do not appear in sequence according to their actual situation; The most painful scenes often come together; The happiest scenes come together, but they always cast the deepest shadow.

I can't remember how many nights, when I was leafing through the paper, it slipped through my fingers; I can't remember how many candles turned to ashes under my gaze. After death, I will always hear the echo of my commitment to life, and feel that the flow of years is gradually diluting my youth and ignorance. I wish I were a clockwound clock, keeping every moment of my enrichment in the flow day and night.

Maybe that OOOOO answered correctly. I didn't think clearly about your question.