How did highlighting information about the skeletal system help you understand what you read?

Could someone write me a personal narrative it can be your idea

What theme is the main theme of this excerpt from the metal pig by hans christian andersen? in the garden of the grand duke's palace under the roof of one of the wings were a thousand roses bloom in winter, a little ragged boy had been sitting the whole day long. the boy might serve as a type of italy lovely and smiling and yet suffering. he was hungry and thirsty but no one gave him anything and when it became dark and they were about to close the gardens, the porter turned him out. a long time he stood musing on the bridge which crosses the arno and looking at the glittering stars that were reflected in the water which flowed between him and the wonderful marble bridge trinita. he then walked away towards the metal pig, half note down, clasped it with his arms, and, putting his mouth to the shining snout, drink deep droughts of the fresh water. close-by lay a few salad leaves into chestnuts, which register for his supper. no one was in the street but himself. it belonged only to him. he boldly seated himself on the pig's back, leaned forward so that his curly head could rest on the head of the animal, and, before he was aware, fell asleep. it was midnight. the metal pig raised himself gently, and the boy heard him say quite distinctly, hold tight little boy, for i am going to run, and way he started for most wonderful ride first they arrived at the p as the del granduca and the metal horse which bears the dukes statue made allowed

What is the effect of narrator's word choice on the tone of this passage? the words "my heart shrank within itself" create a fearful tone. the words "wounded his fellow" develop a remorseful tone. the words "struck harsh upon my ears" suggest an irritated tone. the words "better-omened" set a hopeful tone. excerpt from "the cabuliwallah" by rabindranath tagore i was sitting in my study, looking through the accounts, when some one entered, saluting respectfully, and stood before me. it was rahmun the cabuliwallah. at first i did not recognise him. he had no bag, nor the long hair, nor the same vigour that he used to have. but he smiled, and i knew him again. "when did you come, rahmun? " i asked him. "last evening," he said, "i was released from jail." the words struck harsh upon my ears. i had never before talked with one who had wounded his fellow, and my heart shrank within itself when i realised this; for i felt that the day would have been better-omened had he not turned up.