阅读理解

    Bit by bit, the sand dust that fills the sky is dying down. The blue sky and the burning sun once again hang over the desert.

    He is on the road, driving his beat-up yellow cab. The sides of the road are littered with damaged vehicles. Masses of smoke in the distance tell him that a war is being dragged on throughout his country.

    It's a fine day despite the choking heat. Not a breath of wind is blowing.

    A group of vehicles are traveling towards him, carrying many passengers. The scene reminds him of the market days in this country when crowds of trucks transport folks to the markets; the only difference is, this time, they are not trucks, but tanks, carrying foreigners, guns in hand. He stares at them. They stare back. So they pass by one another.

    “The damned war!” he whispers bitterly. Two days ago, a bomb fell on the market in front of his house, destroying nearly everything in sight. He survived by luck. He decided then and there that he would give up this cab business. This will be his final run. After this, he will leave this place together with his wife and children.

    “Shala and my children, we'll soon meet each other again, after I'm done here.” He turns his head to take a glance at a photo of his wife and children. The glass on the frame is broken, but their smiles in the picture do not fail to provide him with the only comfort that he has.

    Shortly he arrives at a checkpoint. Tanks sit by the side of the road, the sight of which sends a marked coldness through his backbone. A bunch of soldiers armed to the teeth stand by. A foreign soldier signals him to stop. He calms himself down and pulls over. During the past few days, nearly no civilian（平民）vehicles come out of the capital city, his car being the only one on roads.

    A few foreign soldiers come up to him, one, two, three, four, five. The leader bends over to have a look at the old car, then at him. “Where do you come from and where are you going?” With a smile on his face, he answers with a broken speech in the tongue that the soldier can understand, “Sir, I come from the capital. I'm leaving that place because it is a very dangerous place to be, with the war and everything.”

    While talking, he hands a cigarette over to the soldier, then lights it up for him.

    “When will the war end?” he asks.

    “It won't take long. We'll soon give all of you in the capital the true freedom.” The soldier breathes a deep mouthful. He seems to have spotted the photo in the car, “The cigarette is not bad at all. Are those your wife and kids? I have two of my own, roughly the same age.”

    “Oh, yes, they are mine and they are constantly on my mind. They left the city a bit earlier, and I'm on my way to be reunited with them. Perhaps I'm never coming back. Driving a cab around during war times is too dangerous. I'm giving up the business.” He looks at the soldier, still smiling.

    “After we overthrow your dictator(独裁者), you won't have that to worry about. You can come back and pick up your life again.” The soldier is leaning on the door of the car. It is perhaps the first time in many days that he has seen a happy face among the local people. It cheers him up.

    “Maybe, but I have to go to see my family. If you would pay us a visit, my wife will prepare a good meal for all of you. Come with me. This is going to be my last business run and I won't even charge you.”

    “Can't make it. We're on duty. Give our regards to your wife and kids.” The soldier is a bit excited, thinking maybe quite some locals have open arms for them after all. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. The south is battle-infected. Where is your family?”

    Still smiling, he picks up the broken picture frame, presses a kiss on the photo, then turns around, staring into the eyes of that soldier, not quite himself from excitement, and the other foreign soldiers holding guns. Words drop out of his lips slowly but firmly: “Paradise.”

    Perhaps the last thing he sees is the confused, fearful, twisted expression on the face of that soldier, and the cigarette end dropping from his fingers. Then he pushes the button.

阅读理解

    Bit by bit, the sand dust that fills the sky is dying down. The blue sky and the burning sun once again hang over the desert.

    He is on the road, driving his beat-up yellow cab. The sides of the road are littered with damaged vehicles. Masses of smoke in the distance tell him that a war is being dragged on throughout his country.

    It's a fine day despite the choking heat. Not a breath of wind is blowing.

    A group of vehicles are traveling towards him, carrying many passengers. The scene reminds him of the market days in this country when crowds of trucks transport folks to the markets; the only difference is, this time, they are not trucks, but tanks, carrying foreigners, guns in hand. He stares at them. They stare back. So they pass by one another.

    “The damned war!” he whispers bitterly. Two days ago, a bomb fell on the market in front of his house, destroying nearly everything in sight. He survived by luck. He decided then and there that he would give up this cab business. This will be his final run. After this, he will leave this place together with his wife and children.

    “Shala and my children, we'll soon meet each other again, after I'm done here.” He turns his head to take a glance at a photo of his wife and children. The glass on the frame is broken, but their smiles in the picture do not fail to provide him with the only comfort that he has.

    Shortly he arrives at a checkpoint. Tanks sit by the side of the road, the sight of which sends a marked coldness through his backbone. A bunch of soldiers armed to the teeth stand by. A foreign soldier signals him to stop. He calms himself down and pulls over. During the past few days, nearly no civilian（平民）vehicles come out of the capital city, his car being the only one on roads.

    A few foreign soldiers come up to him, one, two, three, four, five. The leader bends over to have a look at the old car, then at him. “Where do you come from and where are you going?” With a smile on his face, he answers with a broken speech in the tongue that the soldier can understand, “Sir, I come from the capital. I'm leaving that place because it is a very dangerous place to be, with the war and everything.”

    While talking, he hands a cigarette over to the soldier, then lights it up for him.

    “When will the war end?” he asks.

    “It won't take long. We'll soon give all of you in the capital the true freedom.” The soldier breathes a deep mouthful. He seems to have spotted the photo in the car, “The cigarette is not bad at all. Are those your wife and kids? I have two of my own, roughly the same age.”

    “Oh, yes, they are mine and they are constantly on my mind. They left the city a bit earlier, and I'm on my way to be reunited with them. Perhaps I'm never coming back. Driving a cab around during war times is too dangerous. I'm giving up the business.” He looks at the soldier, still smiling.

    “After we overthrow your dictator(独裁者), you won't have that to worry about. You can come back and pick up your life again.” The soldier is leaning on the door of the car. It is perhaps the first time in many days that he has seen a happy face among the local people. It cheers him up.

    “Maybe, but I have to go to see my family. If you would pay us a visit, my wife will prepare a good meal for all of you. Come with me. This is going to be my last business run and I won't even charge you.”

    “Can't make it. We're on duty. Give our regards to your wife and kids.” The soldier is a bit excited, thinking maybe quite some locals have open arms for them after all. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. The south is battle-infected. Where is your family?”

    Still smiling, he picks up the broken picture frame, presses a kiss on the photo, then turns around, staring into the eyes of that soldier, not quite himself from excitement, and the other foreign soldiers holding guns. Words drop out of his lips slowly but firmly: “Paradise.”

    Perhaps the last thing he sees is the confused, fearful, twisted expression on the face of that soldier, and the cigarette end dropping from his fingers. Then he pushes the button.