The night died, and with it the glow of the electric lights died too. Darkness ruled the big compound. The dismal cry the electric lamps uttered as they expired still quivered in the air. Although the sound was low, it penetrated everywhere; even the corners of the rooms seemed to echo with soft weeping. The time for happiness had passed. Now was the hour of tragic tears.
Lying in their beds, stripped of the masks they had worn all day, people took stock of themselves. They opened their hearts and examined their innermost secrets, peering into the recesses of their souls. Stricken with remorse and anger, they wept over the waste, the losses, the bitterness of the day gone by. Of course there were a few pleased individuals among them, but these were already wrapped in satisfied slumber. The rest were disappointed, miserable creatures in unwarm beds, tearfully bemoaning their fate.
Whether in the brightness of day or the darkness of night, the world always has these two different aspects for these two different kinds of people.
(from Family by Ba Jin [Pa Chin])
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