American Chinese Japanese
I close my eyes and can still hear her--the little girl with a   voice   so strong and powerful that we could hear her halfway down the block.She was a(n)  [MASK]   peasant who asked for money and   in return   gave the only thing she had--her voice.I paused outside a small shop and listened.She brought to my mind the   image   of Little Orphan Annie.I could not understand the words she   sang  ,but her voice begged for   attention  .It stood out from the noises of Arbat Street,pure and impressive,like the chime of a bell.She sang   from underneath   an oldstyle lamp post in the shadow of a building,her arms extended and   head   thrown back.She was small and of unremarkable looks.Her brown hair   escaped   the bun it had been pulled into,and she occasionally reached up to   remove   a stray piece from her face.Her clothing I can't recall.Her voice,on the other hand,is   permanently   imprinted in my mind.