High School Entrance Exam Full Score Essay: "I Like a Word," What Do You Guess?
My favorite word is solitude. It is an awakening after the bustle, a spiritual world's transcendence, a realm of simplicity, and more, it's a purification of superficiality and a return to humility.
'Cold but favorable, with a root bud, not a rich and pampered flower of the world.' Lan Ran's quatrain of words, carried his lonely heart, scattered in its drift, guarding his soul, even if it floated, it left a trace of serene melancholy. This Marquis, a noble and wealthy young man, held a high position and was close to the emperor, but he spent his whole life alone in his own world, searching for the emotion that troubled him throughout his life.
Perhaps, after the departure of his cousin, even surrounded by vibrant blossoms and splendor, he would simply feel lonely. Some people, even when living among crowds, are so desolate. It is precisely this solitude that created Lan Ran's renowned 'Drinking Water' poem.
'The moment I saw you, I became very low, very low, until I was buried in the dust, yet I blossomed in the dust.' I think, if Zhang Ailing's words are that flower reaching out, then she herself has entered a solitary journey, buried in the soil. After experiencing that tumultuous love and the coldness of family relationships, she embarked on a profound and deep life. Some say: 'Those who can simultaneously endure the extreme prosperity of life and the extreme simplicity of life are only Zhang Ailing.' Her indelible family emblem, like a dense branch of blood, converged on Zhang Ailing, forming her aloof, cold, and quirky uniqueness. Even her image of looking up and crossing her arms became a classic of history…
It is precisely because of this solitude that we can see the most authentic talent and temperament in human nature. This post-apocalyptic woman stubbornly maintained her solitude amidst war and chaos, and night after night of revelry. This sensitive woman persevered through years of wind and dust, guarding a sense of clarity and detachment.
Solitude is Paulo Coelho's oars drifting on Walden Lake; solitude is Hemingway's faith while watching Mount Kilimanjaro. Solitude is Simone de Beauvoir's snow-covered Brussels; solitude is Van Gogh's sunflowers under the sun. People live in the world, they are social animals, inevitably interacting with others, but we can maintain a solitary part of our inner selves, accompanied by the breeze, the moon, and pine trees, to privately enjoy our own purity and simplicity, allowing our hearts to sail to the other shore in a state of tranquility.
I most like this word: solitude.
