A culture on both feet

The city library is very close to my home, every weekend, I will go to the library reading room to read some newspapers and magazines. Every time I come here, I always see a full house. Sometimes, we will have some exchanges around some literary phenomena. In this tense and noisy city, it is valuable to maintain a leisure mood of reading. So, in my opinion, everyone here has a certain level and accomplishment.

The snow in the north winter is big, snow, a lot of trouble will follow. Walking in the street, shoes will be covered with dirty snow, from the cold outside into the indoor. Dirty snow will soon turn into sewage. So people walk through the place, often will leave two lines of black footprints. It was on a snowy day that I found something strange when I entered the reading room. In the room more than a clean the floor of the female worker, she saw me come in, unexpectedly tense ground stare at me, hand hold mop, such as facing great enemy. I pretended not to see her, but the feeling told me that she was following me, and turned back sharply, startling her and myself. Surprised at the line of footprints he left behind. It stood out on the pale yellow floor. And the floor cleaner, she's doing her best.

Sit on the seat, thinking about the footprints just now, shame arises spontaneously, no heart to read. The reading room is an open public place with many people coming and going. I noticed that everyone who came in was doing the same thing, unaware that their feet were playfully scribbling on the freshly scrubbed floor. So the girl would keep on rubbing after the people who came in and went out. Constant trampling and constant wiping, like a destruction and recovery of the drama war, staged in the reading room, let a person tremble. By and by, sweat began to appear on the brow of the tired girl who mopped the floor.

Suddenly there is a feeling that every pair of feet in and out are full of sin, because they are constantly trampling on the fruits of others' hard work, is destroying a kind of beauty and harmony.

It was some time before the floor cleaner had a chance to catch her breath and rest when the door was quietly pushed open again. A man stretched his head and looked inside, as if to come in, but pulled his head back. In a moment both doors were flung open. The same man as before, this time, he came in with a bucket of purified water on his shoulder. Suddenly, a burst of "sand, sand" sound, accompanied by the water man walking melody, attracted everyone's attention. I began to look at him from top to bottom. The old cotton hat, the green coat... At last I saw his feet and was amazed. Each foot of the man is covered with a plastic bag. As he moved, the bag made a "sand, sand" noise. Because of the plastic bag, there was no stain on the place where he had walked. It was as clean as ever. I noticed that the lady mopping the floor stood staring at the man with a mixed expression as he placed the water and slowly left the reading room. And when she turned her head again, I saw tears in her eyes.

This snowy Sunday, I did not read, but I thought of the "accomplishment" of the word. I think, culture is not a person more than others know some words, read a few books; Or a person who knows the plot of "A Dream of Red Chamber" and can recite some of Shakespeare's famous lines, self-cultivation should be reflected in the details of a person's actions, like the water delivery man who knows how to cover both feet with plastic bags before entering the room on a snowy day.