Wandering lyric prose
This is a warm spring. Because of this episode, it brought a beautiful and humid atmosphere. Holding an umbrella, watching the rain together is the thread of missing. Under the umbrella, eight thin water columns cooperate with each other in the air, sing to each other, smash to the ground as a whole, smash and reorganize, and continue to infiltrate into its dreams.
I got lost in the reinforced concrete covered land. After wandering for a while, I decided to wander back to the place where black and white met. It was the beginning of many legends and stories, and people gave me too many fantasies. This is a hill full of green grass and flowers. At the highest place, there is a big tree. Sitting on the rough bark, I sniffed the mixed smell of rain, soil and trees.
Looking at the distant city, scattered lights outlined her outline. Her figure is looming in the dim light, so quiet under the comfort of the night, changing the rapid passion during the day, showing the rare implication and gentleness of modern women. She touched the face of the sky with her grotesque fingertips, and built a bridge between her and him, trying to melt her long-crying face with her love.
Continue to walk in the forest, watching the shadows of trees, watching the sound of wind and rain, watching the gentle symphony, watching the uncontrolled dancing of the body, a pretentious conductor trying to direct the ensemble of nature, thinking like this, laughing casually, and finally, the dark clouds are tired of all this and slowly dissipate, revealing the twinkling stars. Because of the distance, everything seems so beautiful, maybe someone is telling them something at this time. Pray for a response, but some things are doomed to be fruitless. People should learn and get used to giving up, so that they will not be sad because of giving up. The file of life will smooth out your desires, emotions and personality, and finally become indifferent and unchanging. But people always hide a trace of fantasy, and they will be stuffed in the deepest place because of their needs, and accept it with a smile like an iceberg at sea.
If you just stand on the lawn and feel sorry for the fallen flowers, you can't hear the grass crying. There are many corners in life that we forget. White clouds flow slowly in the clear sky, with no direction and no hope, not to mention the touch of this season. Reason often reminds itself that we can't plunder the few impulses in life with endless feelings, and don't take the long-term gathering and dispersion as the purpose. There will be persistent new troubles and old ideas when you are alive. Memories and longings are just a process, and love and hate are not all in it. Affection, friendship and love are all moving forward in a subtle way, without too much reluctance, too much hope and long-term passion. Simplicity is the most true, and the emotion that can withstand ordinary life is ours. Often all complicated things will eventually return to plain and simple; For example, the fish diving into the bottom of the water can no longer pick up those complicated memories, so the reeds in the small rope point out the ripples in the water, and the streamer of the water is not as colorful as yesterday. Therefore, we should always know how to throw away those trivial things, forget some unnecessary things, rebuild our backpacks, make our bags easier and make our journey more enjoyable. Extraordinary in the ordinary, extraordinary in the extraordinary.
Memory and forgetting are real life experiences. Happiness and pain are not important. I just want to experience more and more, and I don't want life to be too thin. Only then do you know that remembering is as important as forgetting, and that missing belongs to you.
Strolling lyric prose 3 sunny days, flowers are particularly gorgeous; The grass grows particularly green; This tree is full of vitality. Sunshine is very selfless, and it spreads all over the earth in large quantities.
Mother duck was very excited to see these beautiful scenery. She decided to take her ducklings for a walk on the streets of Vancouver and enjoy sunbathing.
"Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack They danced swing and walked happily.
"Ga-"cried Mother Duck warily, because she saw a sewer without a lid. It protects the ducklings with thick wings for fear that ducklings will fall in. However, the two ducklings were chatting in full swing and accidentally fell in. "Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.
At this critical moment, Mother Duck calmly looked around and waddled to the nearby patrol lounge.
Seeing the patrolman, Mother Duck fluttered her wings, flapped the big wings of gray feathers from time to time, and quacked, as if telling what had happened. But the patrolman didn't understand what the mother duck was doing. He kept scratching the back of his head with his hand and grinning, as if he were seriously thinking about what this meant. Mother duck still didn't understand when she saw the patrolman, so she played hardball. Its flat mouth bit the patrolman's trouser leg and pulled it in the direction of the accident with all its strength. The patrolman did not understand and did not respond. So Mother Duck changed her way. She came behind the policeman and put her hairy head on him. This time, the police seemed to understand something and followed the mother duck to the sewer.
Mother duck put her head into the sewer and croaked inside, signaling the patrolman that her baby was inside to comfort the panicked ducklings.
The patrolman squatted down, put his head into the sewer and took a photo with a flashlight. I saw two poor ducklings swimming forward desperately, trying not to be washed away by the sewage. "Oh, so that's it!" The patrolman suddenly realized. Get down quickly, roll up your sleeves, and put your hand into the sewer. Suddenly, he touched Mao Mao's little head, grabbed it quickly, and successfully found a duckling. The patrol continued fishing, and in a few minutes, the patrol rescued another duckling that fell into the sewer.
"Ga ga ga! Hey hey. " Mother duck and ducklings kept barking, as if thanking the police. Then continue to walk slowly. When they passed the road, the cars on the road stopped, without honking their horns or any impatience, just waiting quietly for the naive ducks to pass by. ...
……
Blue misty rain for four days, evening breeze to embroider lyric prose. Walking in the sea of clouds, which is as elegant as ink, as smooth as silk and as picturesque as poetry, my thoughts are euphemistic and ethereal with the meaning of the book.
It seems that this lonely cloud after the rain must have been written by Guan Xiu in the Tang Dynasty, and it will be more afraid of bending than a Bai Lugeng. At first, there were not as many residues of snow as there are now. The breeze leads further, and the lonely Nair River is clear. After the rain, cigarettes were happily scattered on the horizon and washed spotless. Although there is no lasting appeal of the purple fairy from the east, there is an incomparable cool breeze, but there are some lofty and magnificent flavors. If you don't care, that's all right. If you don't like it so arrogant and make the atmosphere tense, you might as well walk on the willow smoke and savor the rainy days before. The trees are covered with pearls, and you immediately lose your interest in going out. Unexpectedly, a pool of wind carries a wisp of lotus fragrance. This is really a mountain and heavy water. At this moment, I will step on the steps and walk past clusters of poor hibiscus flowers. Looking at the endless lotus leaves, your hard work has not been in vain. Who would have thought that Yun Yun was so frivolous and a prodigal son! Squeezing his cheek into the water, the lotus bowed his head shyly. Fortunately, the water is wide enough, and an empty nest is spinning with fragrant wind, driving it around. In a short time, the face was covered by shady curtains, and the scattered lights under the eaves floated into the clouds.
It's a pity that this is a sunny night, and after a few drinks, there is still no leisure. As if walking in the wind and rain, the footsteps are getting heavier and heavier. Who knows where I am when I am awake tonight? There is a breeze and a waning moon on the bank of Yangliu. Bathed in the dark night, the gray clouds overhead are becoming more and more ethereal. Wine tasting alone can be described as extremely generous, but it is like eating a few frozen dates in the cold winter when the aftertaste meets cold smoke. Smelling the clouds in the wind reminds people of the smell of incense cooked on the old bonfire. The moon is getting round, and the sunset glow is floating everywhere. I also feel that home is good, the water is sweet, the food is fragrant and the people are warm. I just smelled a wisp of local accent, which suddenly ignited the frivolous when I was young. Sweep away all the sadness and suddenly feel high-spirited and energetic.
My thoughts are stepping on the breeze, narrowing my eyes smartly and walking in the blue-gray clouds, as if I were in a poetic song night. Think of the elegant and quiet clothes under the tree, the cool wind blowing under your arms, and the charming atmosphere that can't be covered. At this time, a thin woman was ushered in the wind, and her lips whispered who would send the brocade book, and the word Yan returned, and the west wing was full of fine print. All the arrogance suddenly converged a lot. I guess, if not a sentimental person, who will stay away from her lovesickness?
Wandering lyric prose for 5 nights, speechless.
Cloudy days cover the sky and the sky is like night. This quiet night ... I turned on the desk lamp, and the strong light stung my eyes. In an instant, the room was filled with this green light. Staring at the light, eyes, so bright. Maybe this light can heal my scarred heart! Quiet, really quiet! This book, this lamp, this room. Perhaps the writing sound of "rustling" broke this lonely harmony. Oh! The noisy streets are full of traffic, and the days have quietly left. I don't know how many people have paid attention. This is reincarnation, phoenix nirvana, and ...
No matter how you treat it, it is still silent, and success or failure goes up in smoke! Yesterday has fled, perhaps its long tail is disturbing your thoughts, but have you found that the shadow on the ground is getting longer quietly? Oh! Look! I don't want it to grow up. I chased it angrily ... but it still failed people's expectations. Finally, it disappeared. Oh! Is this a day? At night, I tried to find the shadow, "Hey! Come out! ..... ""Hey ... "I stretched my voice, and it quietly disappeared ... nightmare, terrible thing. Looking for shadows wasted my time ... and finally they all left, all left. When the dawn lifted the veil of night, I caught a glimpse. The shadow is with me, and it hasn't left me. However, it is still disappointed and grows slowly and quietly. ...
Suddenly, I understood. Although the shadow will change, but I am its master, it is very loyal, but it is just a disappointing long, quietly ... Oh! It seems that the black mass produced by the sun unconsciously alludes to your actions! In this case, the shadow is a mirror of success. This is very competitive, but the white jade is slightly flawed. Yesterday, the shadow confirmed him. Although he has gone, he will still tell me what kind of shadow will look good and what action to do tomorrow. Eyes, it hurts. Damn lights. Looking down, I found my shadow. "I won't treat you badly!" I followed with a smile, I moved my hands and feet, and I also moved my head and thoughts ... "Don't be lazy!" "I still smile.
Turn off the lights. Where is the shadow? ..... "Don't leave me ..." Oh, it's sunny, and the shadow is on the ground. Oh, lovely shadow, don't leave me ... cold war, trembling. The light is dim. Eyes, nice flowers. Hands, it's too cold. Was that lamp listening to my heart just now? Cloudy-sunny looking at the shadow, it grows relentlessly, I like it. ...
Lovely shadows, lovely everything.
Walking lyric prose 6 This is a world wrapped in white, and I am walking aimlessly alone. ...
I didn't know where I was going, so I walked quietly. Snow-white elves danced in the sky and landed gently on my shoulders, as if greeting those who walked in this silvery white world like me. Then quietly disappeared into the sea of people. ...
I walked slowly, but I stayed in a subtle picture: a middle-aged woman with her daughter was waiting for the bus on the side of the road, carrying big bags and small bags. When the woman saw the lively child around her, she suddenly thought of something, put down what she was holding, raised her hand and gently wiped the snow off the child's head, then lifted the zipper of the child's clothes.
Seeing this scene, although it didn't happen to me, I felt so warm in my heart. A feeling of bitterness welled up in my mind.
The snow in the sky is getting bigger and bigger, decorating the whole world. Snow is so pure and white. I walked slowly alone, and my feelings suddenly welled up in my heart. Looking up at the snowflakes flying in the sky at 45 degrees, they are flying magnificently. Suddenly a snowflake fell into my eyes. Close your eyes, it has never been so cold, and the cold snowflake suddenly cooled to the bone. I sighed in my mind: how can a small ice flower have such a great shock?
I rubbed my eyes and found a warm scene: an old man sweeping the street wore a pair of cotton gloves, admirable work clothes and a worn broom. Carefully clean up the "hills" piled up by the roadside. When I swept a meadow, I saw that he had eaten, so he bent down to help a trampled meadow up again, then smiled at him and left.
Standing by, my body is cold, but I'm worried that my room is so warm. ...
The snow stopped, and the exposed sunshine was dazzling. Looking up at the blue sky and white clouds in the sky, my heart seems to be full of emotions, I adjusted my clothes and walked forward with my head up.
Sometimes, people fall in love with a place without prior agreement or deliberate purpose. It was an accident. However, it is this accident that will inevitably leave a memory of one's own in one's life journey. By chance, I walked into the ancient city of Ganzhou, an ancient city with a strong Tujia diaojiao building, but I was destined to leave the truest feeling of this ancient town in my travel imprint.
The streets and alleys of the ancient city are paved with bluestone slabs, and both sides are also stacked with bluestone slabs to form a high wall. Moss and some green vines leisurely decorate the mottled stone wall, as if decorating an eternal green dream for the ancient city wall. Such streets are quiet and simple, without the noise of city streets. Walking here, people are like being pulled into a dreamland filled with light fog. Streets and alleys are dragging their feet, and their eyes are flowing away with them. However, they always want their steps to flow slowly, slowly, gently and gently. They don't seem to want to go out and disturb the lush dreams of the ancient city. Every time I turn a corner, my heart can't wait to know what's around the corner. Maybe it's a Miao girl with a basket of flowers and a smiling face with a garland. Maybe it's the back of a Miao elder brother floating away with an umbrella. Perhaps a wooden door left unlocked stood quietly by the side of the road. Perhaps this is a long stone road dream ... whatever it is, it always carries the unique freshness, simplicity and poetry of the ancient city.
Rain seems to like visiting the stone streets and lanes of the ancient city in particular. The crackling rain welcomed me as a tourist from afar like warm applause. After the rain, the wet stone road glowed a little silver in the sun, which was also true and illusory. What is real is the rain lane in front of us, and what is imagined is the rain lane written by Dai Wangshu. Although nobody cares, people don't feel lonely walking in such a real rainy lane. Perhaps, this silver stone road, this mossy stone wall, is the best companion for people at the moment. Walking in this bluestone rain lane, people seem to be walking on their own souls. Indeed, people need such a clean, simple, quiet and poetic soul.
Here, the diaojiao building is near Qingshiban Road. Streets and alleys are like silk threads, connecting the diaojiao building with this green space. Walking into the diaojiao building, the peaceful atmosphere is filled, and the red lanterns and golden corn skewers hanging on the beams radiate warm light, expressing the simplest and warmest expectations of the ancient city people for life. Drinking a gourd ladle of ancient city water is sweet, while tasting ancient city wine is mellow. Walking on the wooden stairs of the diaojiao building, I always want to sing the most beautiful mountain to the ancient city elder brother. But how many attractive secrets are hidden in the attic of the ancient city, but they have become eternal knots in the dreams of many brothers and sisters!
No matter how the stone road extends, maybe she will cross the moonlight of the lotus pond, but it will eventually lead to the river, as if it were a fate and a destination. Walking down the stone steps by the river, a fairyland suddenly appeared. The woman who didn't see the laundry saw that the peach blossoms on the riverside were more colorful after the raindrops were washed. Skipping the stone pier, the smoke rises slowly, looming. Under the big banyan tree, a fisherman rocked his boat, sang folk songs, spread fishing nets and swam freely with fish. The Tiesuo Bridge seems to be a gorgeous turn from the quaint Qingshi Road on both sides of the strait to the riverside. The bridge is covered with iron locks, which are engraved with all kinds of handwriting. The love words in her heart, the promised promises ... She takes clear water as a mirror and dresses herself carefully every day. Finally, the boat got emotional, slipped into her reflection and rowed into her heart, as if it could never get out again.
Standing on the bank of Rongjiang River, watching all this, I feel that I will become the A-mei of my dreams one day. I wake up from the morning fog every day, walk through the cool bluestone road, cross the beautiful scenery of the lotus pond on that hill, take my favorite SLR and my beloved brother to the river. Enjoy our selfie photos. Or flowing my long hair, walking hand in hand by the river, listening to your poems and appreciating my words. I thought: What a beautiful painting circle this is.
Strolling lyric prose 8 Today is another rainy day. The pomegranate that bloomed a few days ago has begun to wither for the second time. It is silent in the rain, but its leaves are greener, making the originally fiery pomegranate redder. Walking quietly in the campus, holding a light blue parasol, don't think about anything. This vibrant silence alone is intoxicating.
The yellow horn tree in the parking lot, like a steady wise man, is meditating there. The leaves washed by rain are their green thoughts flowing quietly. I used to pass them. They either danced in the breeze in green skirts or shone with charming brilliance in the sun. I just regard them as an ordinary beauty, no different from other flowers and plants. Today, they tell me in silent language and attract me with green thoughts. I quietly read these words full of wisdom, and gradually understand that only when I am strong enough can I dedicate a tree to be green and cool.
Say goodbye to the yellow horn tree, continue to stroll along the playground, listen to the beautiful sound of rain hitting the umbrella, watch the trickle by the umbrella, and draw a beautiful arc in the breeze. My heart is softening gradually, and my tired heart is slowly relaxing. I don't want to prepare lessons, help each other, review endless homework and papers, and even less consider safety, although safety is a sword hanging over my head. I only care about the leisurely moment of walking in the rain.
On both sides of the entrance of the west teaching building, there are two rows of wintersweet, which are particularly green in the rain. The rain drops on the green leaves, with a loud bang, and the splashing water gathers into a stream, which is injected into the rooted land and nourishes their roots. They will gather strength to walk through the warmth of spring, the heat of summer and the bleak of autumn, and in the cold winter, when people are almost desperate, they will bloom pale yellow flowers and give people hope with refreshing fragrance. Admirable is that even if their flowers wither, they will not fall off the branches, nor will they fall into the mud and be crushed into dust. They would rather hold incense in the branches and wait for death. How many literati have been defeated by such integrity. But I also agree with another attitude towards life and death: stepping down from noble branches and turning into spring mud to protect flowers. He Yue, who was moved by China, was only twelve years old. At the end of his life, he happily donated all his organs. She is another kind of plum blossom. In the moral winter, it blooms beautifully and withers beautifully. She left the branches and threw herself into the embrace of the earth, leaving a lasting fragrance. Maybe she will bloom in people's hearts forever and never fade.
Walking into the teaching building, two rows of ginkgo trees stood quietly in the rain. Although they are not tall enough, they are tall and proud, swaying beautiful leaves with classical charm and trying to stretch. I can't help but stop. I carefully read every leaf of them, so fresh and green, so fresh and green, all with the spirit of stretching. I was deeply lost in thought. I gradually understand that these ginkgo biloba have a unique positive and enterprising spirit. It is this spirit that makes every leaf and every branch actively stretch. At this time, the sound of morning reading is endless. When my eyes shine, aren't the students these tall and straight ginkgo trees? Although they are not tall and straight enough, even a little immature, they have the enterprising spirit like ginkgo trees, and they will eventually grow into towering trees, offering a green tree and coolness to the society.
The sound of morning reading haunts my ears, like a most beautiful song. I strolled into the office in this beautiful song. The rain is still flying and the road is still muddy, but my heart has cleared up, and the sun shines into my heart, dispelling the haze that has gathered for a long time.
Walking outside the window, it began to rain in Mao Mao.
In summer, in the rainy south of the Yangtze River, you can often hear the crisp and hearty rain. Sitting alone quietly, feeling the coolness brought by the rain through the window, enjoying the hazy rain and listening to the sounds of nature.
Through the window, the gloomy sky seems to be crying softly. A gust of Mao Mao rain, like cow hair, floated in with the wind and brushed the hair on my forehead. The water drops slid down my cheek coquettishly and touched my shoulder gently. Close your eyes and let your thoughts wander around with the rain outside the window. An idea rushed out-going out for a walk.
Hold up an elegant umbrella and walk freely in the lingering drizzle. Breeze blowing, light rain gently and densely weaving, hair dancing with the wind, like countless happy elves showing off their vigorous life. The misty sky is the artistic conception of a sentence: flying freely is as light as a dream, and the drizzle is as fine as sorrow.
Leaves are swept away by ordinary dust, and roads are washed away by the vicissitudes of time. Even the ancient stone houses on the roadside stood silently in the rain, quietly, as if savoring the reserve and art of the rain. I like rain since I was a child, whether it is torrential rain or sparse rain. I often think that rain is the most ethereal water in the world.
In this steam, my thoughts are flying-
She is a cold child with her own unique beauty. And I think, for her, more, maybe loneliness. Being away from the sunshine is both her luck and her sorrow. If not, she wouldn't be so beautiful, but she wouldn't be so lonely. She is so lofty, indifferent, even a little aloof, but I believe she is pure and clear, so she doesn't like the so-called worldly wisdom in the rolling world of mortals, so she coldly avoids, escapes and stays away, and only gives people who know how to appreciate a clean heart.
Rain is also beautiful, although she hides her beauty. Not many people can find and understand.
Amateur Li Yian should count as one. "The phoenix tree is raining and dripping at dusk." In her works, rain conveys inner sadness. Rain also has feelings!
Li Shangyin also loves rain. He appreciates the beautiful scenery of "the rain rises in the autumn pool at night" and listens to a little rain, because he knows how to "leave the residual lotus to listen to the rain".
Tang Wan, who is talented, is so sad in her eyes. In the face of the heartbreaking "hairpin phoenix" of her former lover, she wrote with infinite melancholy: "The world is thin and human feelings are evil. Rain and flowers are easy to fall at dusk. "
The rain that Wang Wei saw was peaceful and poetic. "After the rain, an empty mountain stands on an autumn night. There is moonlight in the pine forest and crystal stone in the stream "-this is a fresh, elegant and natural freehand painting, which is fascinating.
The rain is still falling, and the small pond on the bluestone board is still dizzy. Wandering on the quaint bluestone board, feeling the pure tranquility brought by the rain, getting close to the rain, understanding the rain, and making the heart as clear and transparent as the rain, isn't this a blessing?
A wisp of kitchen smoke rises slowly in the distance, scattered in the air, blurring the line of sight, blending with the drizzle and becoming an ink painting. ...
Strolling through lyric prose 10 clear water and blue sky. Smoke billowed in front of the mountain, and antique wooden bridges by the river. The hammer is loud, the laughter is sweet, and the fish and shrimp are touched barefoot. Some farmers rolled up their trouser legs and hoes, and some ducks, geese and quacks chased after them.
This is the memory of my childhood, and this is the kindest face in my hometown. How many times, I dreamed of returning to my hometown and the river that gave me joy.
Today, standing by this river, I can't help feeling.
On both sides of the cold cement river, black algae and river water are green and do not flow, but fish jump out of the water from time to time. I gasped and whispered that the natural environment had been destroyed to this extent.
The purpose of my coming here is to exercise. According to the doctor's advice, I should go quickly. So, walk quickly along the embankment.
Gradually, everything I saw along the way dispelled my stubborn view of the river.
Several concrete steps lead directly to the river. In the morning, the hammer sounded. For a long time, women in twos and threes bent down (without my laundry girl), with bamboo baskets and washbasins beside them. They talked and laughed, and the water in front of them was still pure enough to see people.
There is a canoe floating in the middle of the river, and a fisherman walks slowly with a long pole (the other end of the special pole is equipped with an iron hook). Oh, it is closing the net. He stopped from time to time, took out the fishing net in the water, and looked at it carefully, as if he were very upset. He picked it up, put it down and picked it up again. The face covered by the sun hat can't tell whether it is lost or happy.
Soon, another boat floated in. The fisherman came out of the cage and the water was marked with floating mineral water bottles. All he has to do is row to the mark and cage in advance. The fisherman's wife came to pick up her husband.
"How about it?"
The wife asked softly, her face brimming with happiness.
"Not bad."
The husband seems calm, but the excitement is hard to hide.
I approached and leaned over. It's really great. Two or three inches long fish are jumping in the basin.
So the wife sent the fish to the morning market, and the husband continued to salvage.
This time, the floating boat is electric. You can tell it's a sanitation worker at a glance. He stretched out the bamboo pole with barbed wire in front. Left, right, fishing in the water.
Is the river full of algae and moss caught? I didn't know it was not until I read it for a while.
So, what is the purpose of doing this?
I wanted to catch up and ask, but I was afraid of disturbing others, so I daydreamed alone: salvaging obstacles. Yes, I think I'm right.
A pair of white-haired old men walked and talked. An old man bent over and his mouth was crooked badly. At a glance, his folded hands could touch the ground.
"Good, good!"
I admire it softly.
He smiled at me, and his mouth was crooked even more.
There was no noise and no traffic. Several egrets flew over the water, stopped on the reeds and fell down together.
Oleander is in full bloom, red as rosy clouds and white as snow. Weeping willows like to comb their long hair with their heads down to the morning sun. I was pleasantly surprised to find that there are many fruit trees, pomegranate with open mouth, grapes covered with branches, dates covered with branches, and not many red ones. Where is the greedy baby? Why don't even magpies, crows and sparrows come to steal food?
Seeing this, I remembered the scene of stealing vegetables when I was a child and climbing up the old woman's cabin to pick dates, and my heart was full of joy. I can't help but feel the consequences of stealing food on my forehead-the scar.
Corn and sweet potatoes are planted in the fields inside the dike. A middle-aged couple is busy here, one carrying water and the other watering. I feel at home here, and I seem to have returned to my small village.
Although this town belongs to Hangzhou, it is also a beautiful place to live, surrounded by low rolling mountains and lush trees. Looking up, the morning glow dyed the opposite sky red, and my mood was much better, my steps were faster, and I blew a brisk whistle.