Collect jokes or interesting stories about learning to draw.

This is a story, and the relevant information comes from the Internet.

Original: O Henry-The Last Leaf (translated as the Last Ivy Leaf)

Text:

Sue and Joan set up their studio on the top floor of a low three-story brick house. "Johnsy" is a nickname for Johnsy. One of them is from Maine,

One is from California. They had dinner at del Mungo's restaurant. During the conversation, they found that they had the same taste in art, food and clothes, so they rented the studio together. It was in May. In June, 1 1, a cold, invisible uninvited guest called "pneumonia" by the doctor, wandered quietly in the art area, touching here and there with his cold fingers. At the east end of the square, the saboteur strode swaggering and knocked down dozens of victims at once, but his steps slowed down in the maze of narrow and green alleys.

One morning, the busy doctor raised his furry grey eyebrows and called Sue to the corridor outside.

"I think there is only a 10% chance that she will get sick," he said, throwing mercury into the thermometer. "The ten percent hope is that she wants to live. People don't want to live, but they are willing to take care of the funeral home business. This mental state makes medicine helpless. Your young lady is full of thoughts that she will not get better. Is there anything on her mind? "

"She-she hopes to paint the Bay of Naples one day," said Su Ai. "After the doctor left, Sue went into the studio and cried a Japanese napkin into a ball. Later, with a drawing board in her hand, she pretended to be energetic and walked into Johnsy's room, playing jazz.

Sue was drawing a pair of fashionable breeches and glasses to attend a horse show about the story hero, the Idaho shepherd, when she suddenly heard a deep voice repeated several times. She walked quickly to the bed.

Joan's eyes are wide open. She looked out of the window and counted ... backwards.

"12," she counted. After a pause, she said, "1 1", then "10" and "9", and then counted "8" and "7" almost simultaneously.

Sue looked out of the window with concern. What's there to count? I saw an empty and dark yard with an empty wall of a brick house 20 feet away. An old ivy, its withered roots intertwined, and its branches climbed halfway up the brick wall. The cold wind in autumn almost blew all the leaves off the vines, and almost only bare branches were still attached to the peeling bricks. "What, dear?" Sue asked.

"6," Johnsy almost whispered, "they are falling faster and faster now. There were nearly a hundred tablets three days ago. My head hurts from counting. But now

It's easy to count the other piece. There are only five tablets left. "

"Five dollars what, dear. Tell your Sue. "

"Leaves. On the ivy. When the last leaf falls, I should go. I knew it three days ago. Didn't the doctor tell you? " Sue said casually, "What do those broken ivy leaves have to do with your illness? Didn't you like this tree very much before? Come on, you naughty girl. " Don't be silly. Try to get some sleep. "Sue said," I have to go downstairs and ask Behrman to be my model for the retired old miner. I’ll be right back. Don't move until I get back. "

Old Berman is a painter and lives on the ground floor of their building. He is over 60 years old and has a big beard like Michelangelo's statue of Moses. This beard grows on the head of the god of the forest, who is half man and half beast, and flutters around him like a child. Berman is a failed painter. He has been painting a brush for forty years, and he is still far from touching the dress of the goddess of art.

He always said that he would paint his masterpiece, but he hasn't written yet. Sue found Berman in the dimly lit room downstairs. Her breath smelled of alcohol. Old Berman's red eyes were obviously crying in the wind, and he sneered at this stupid idea.

Johnsy fell asleep after they went upstairs. Sura drew the curtain, covered the windowsill and motioned Berman to go to the next room. They looked at the ivy outside the window in fear. Later, they were silent and looked at each other for a while. The cold rain mixed with snowflakes kept falling. Behrman, wearing his old blue shirt, sat on an upside-down iron pot like a stone and pretended to be a reclusive miner.

The next morning, Sue only slept for an hour. When she woke up, she saw Jonson's dull eyes staring at the green curtain.

"Close the curtains, I want to have a look." She ordered in a low voice. Sue complied wearily. But, look! After a night of wind and rain, there is still a vine leaf hanging on the brick wall. This is the last leaf on the ivy. It is still dark green near the stem, but the serrated leaf edge has been

Yellow, it proudly hangs on a vine branch more than 20 feet above the ground.

"I'm a bad girl, Sue," said Jonson. "God left the last rattan leaf to prove how bad I am. It is a sin to want to die.

Now you bring me some chicken soup, some milk mixed with wine, and then-no, give me a small mirror first, and then raise the pillow pad. I want to sit up and watch you cook. An hour later, she said, "Sue, I hope to paint the Bay of Naples one day."

The next day, the doctor said to Sue, "She is out of danger. You made it. Now only nutrition and care are left. "

In the afternoon, Sue ran to Johnsy's bed, where Johnsy was lying quietly knitting a useless dark blue wool shawl. Sue hugged her with an arm and a pillow.

"I have something to tell you, little one," she said. "Mr Berman died of pneumonia in the hospital today. They don't know where he went that rainy night. Later, they found an unlit lantern, a ladder moving around, some brushes scattered all over the floor, a palette with green and yellow pigments on it, and, honey, look out the window and see the last rattan leaf on the wall. Have you ever wondered why the wind blows so hard, but it never shakes? Oh, dear, this leaf is Berman's masterpiece. It was on the night when the last leaf fell that he painted it there. "