file

The other day, when I was polishing my nails with a file, my mother looked at it with interests.
'Is there this kind of file specially for nails?' she said, 'I have only seen the file attached with the nail-cutter.'
'Yes,' I kept the moves of my hands and replied, 'there are always specific tools functioning for specific purposes.'

Poor mother. She never understood that. She is never interested by the world outside. Since when has the world in her mind been fixed with certain pattern and certain size? What and how is that certain pattern and certain size? No idea. The clothes which I bought for her were mostly either too tight or too loose, and nearly always too fashionable and unpractical. Nobody provided her and nobody could be able to provide her some fancy enjoyment of variety of ease in life.

This fragment of thought came to my mind abruptly this morning. and it made me reckoned, why did I only feel pity for my father before, for that nobody take care of his daily necessities throughout the whole life?

Obviously, one palm alone can never clap an applause. It is true in any case.