A strong feeling of shock and fear caught the heart of the World War I soldier as he saw his lifelong friend fall in battle.Caught in a trench (战壕)with continuous gunfire flying over his head , the soldier asked his lieutenant(中尉) if he might go out into the “No Man’s Land” between the trenches to bring his fallen friend back.

“You can go,” said the Lieutenant , “but I don’t think it will be worth it. Your friend is probably dead and you may throw your own life away.” The Lieutenant’s words didn’t matter, and the soldier went anyway.

Surprisingly he managed to reach his friend, pick him up onto his shoulder, and bring him back to their company’s trench. As the two of them tumbled in together to the bottom of the trench, the officer checked the wounded soldier, and then looked kindly at his friend. “I told you it wouldn’t be worth it,” he said. “Your friend is dead, and you are badly wounded.”

“It was worth it, though, sir,” the soldier said.

“How do you mean, ‘worth it?’” responded the Lieutenant. “Your friend is dead!”

“Yes sir,” the soldier answered. “But it was worth it because when I got to him, he was still alive, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him say, ‘Jim, I knew you’d come.’”

As I prepared for my Level 8 Royal Conservatory of Music piano exam, memories of previous disappointing marks filled me with dread and anxiety. The mere thought of booking the exam made me feel completely strained. However, fate had other plans in store for me.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my trusty 10-year-old electric piano malfunctioned. The middle C note played as an F-sharp, and multiple other keys were out of tune.

Despite my distress, my father refused to buy a new piano and instead urged me to be more resourceful. Initially, I was at a loss without my beloved electric piano. But after struggling for a few days, I decided to practice at school. Throughout my time at the private school, I was determined to find every available piano room on campus. After discovering hidden pianos in corners, I spent countless hours practicing. As my exam drew near, the music teachers knew exactly where to find me.

One day, while practicing in a piano room, one of my teachers walked in and offered me a mini exam. To my surprise, she was impressed by my progress and offered valuable feedback on how to improve my technique. My hard work and dedication paid off. Behind the piano, I found a place where I could be anyone.

Playing the piano became my escape from the anxieties of adolescence and allowed me to express myself freely. When it was time to play in front of the examiner, I no longer feared judgment. Instead, I only feared not being able to represent all my hard work. As the lights came on, I thought about the incredible journey that brought me to that moment.

Eventually, I received my mark. Not only did I achieve a rarely given “well done”, but I also discovered a newfound appreciation for music. Whenever I feel discouraged, I look at the gleaming keys of my new upright piano and remember the valuable lesson I learned. As my father always says, some lessons are best learned the hard way.

Throughout history, many of the world’s greatest artists never achieved tremendous fame until after their death. That’s the case of Vivian Maier, who’s now considered to be one of the most important American street photographers of the last century, alongside famous names like Diane Arbus and Henri Cartier-Bresson. But she remained unknown for much of her life, and it was only a chance encounter with a box of negatives that put her in the spotlight.

Details of her life are unclear, but she was born in New York City in the 1920s to European parents. Maier grew up in France before returning to the U. S., where she spent several decades working as a nanny in Chicago to wealthy families. During her days off Maier is thought to have taken more than 100, 000 photographs of people and city scenes in Chicago, yet she kept the photos to herself-many of them never developed.

Skip ahead to 2007, a Chicago historian and collector, John Maloof, came across Maier’s work by accident after purchasing a box of tens of thousands of undeveloped negatives for $380 Sat an auction (拍卖) . As he developed them, Maloof realized they were more than just photos. He was looking at evocative (唤起) art illustrating a Chicago of the mid-20-century that nobody had never seen. Maloof worked to uncover who the photographer was, acquiring more and more of her work. But before he could locate her, Maier had already passed away in 2009, having slipped on ice and never recovering from her head injury.

While Maloof researched Maier’s work, more details emerged. She kept to herself, her employers said, and she would spend her free days taking photos on the streets of Chicago with a Rolleiflex camera. According to Maloof, the children Maier took care of knew she was constantly taking photos, yet she never showed her photos to anyone. Maier also traveled around the world, as indicated by some of her photos.

Other collectors began to acquire Maier’s photos, but Maloof owns much of her work. He released a book, Vivian Maier: Street Photographer, in 2011, and his documentary, Finding Vivian Maier, came out in 2013.