It's very choppy and does not flow to well, but I hope it inspires you to write something of your own that would be better.
As a young man entering a serious world, I, Peter Rose, had learned to become serious. The world was cold and so was I; a match made in the depths of hell. Never, as a working man, had I noticed the blue skies outside my office window, nor could I smell the sweet aroma of croissants in the bakery I would pass on my walk home, and not once I had a heard the beautiful singing of my neighbors' daughter through the thin walls of the apartments. With a serious heart, I knew no joy. Forgetting my memories of fun in the park with friends, rushes of adrenaline from amusement park rides, peace and serenity given to me through a cup of tea and a good book to read, and the love I had given to a girl back home, I only knew the stoic emotions and numbness. Life was all hard work and nothing more-- until I lost my mother, a woman full of emotions and excitement.
"Death is dreadful, my dear son," she said to me with eyes full of contentment. "but do not focus on the strict sense of it. Focus instead on the enjoyments of life, for life is serious, yet free. Appreciate life." Holding her cold hand, I promised to her, "So, then, I shall remember to live. It is what I owe."
Though it had been hard for me, I kept my promise to her, never forgetting to live life. The past years have been a journey of sense and emotion to me as I gaze at the bright blue skies through my office window, smell and taste the pastries in the cheerful bakery that I spend time at telling stories of wonder to other customers after a day's hard work, and enjoy the voice of the little woman next door-- whose concerts I attend in the good company of her parents. I have reconnected with old friends with whom I take to parks for some good fun, and I have reconnected with my old love, the girl back at home who now is my wife. Life is wonderful, though death is serious and I mourn my mother still, however, it is my loss that has brought me joy in the end.
Take, for instance, the description of "an American" friend who has provided the speaker with information about preparing humans for consumption. This gives us a general idea, though within a comical context, of the reputation "Americans" still had in the early eighteenth century for being uncivilized, veritable "savages." But it's hyperbolic. (Hopefully Swift knew that Americans were not really like this, even at that time.)
In China, Santa is known as 'Sheng dan lao ren' (Traditional: 聖誕老人, Simplified: 圣诞老人; means Old Christmas Man). Only a few people have a Christmas Tree.
Explanation:
I hope this helps!
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no, as first person is being told by one character. it can not go back and forth between time like third person, unless the narrator, who's perspective we are seeing, takes us into a flash back or has powers which allows them to see the future.
