Xiao Nuan's excellent prose is on the front and back.
In Yanbei Township, magpies began to build nests and pheasants began to swim. This is the "pulse" of Xiaohan: geese fly back to their hometown, magpies build nests for marriage and childbearing, and pheasants sing with emotion. Some people, like others, are homesick for the Spring Festival, and they have to deal with the wording of their parents' orders and wake up crying in their dreams. Goose, magpie and pheasant don't have Spring Festival. What they follow and inherit is the warmth on Xiao Han's back-the sun of the earth.
Slight cold, "December Festival, the cold is still small at the beginning of the month, so it is cloudy." Perhaps, you can also say that the back of slight cold is Xiao Nuan.
In Iraq, a little girl drew a mother on the floor of an orphanage, took off her shoes and curled up on her chest and fell asleep.
Below the photo is chicken soup: cherish what you have, happiness is actually very simple. Tired of this tone, I put my child in a poor corner with compassion. Shh, don't wake the child, look how soundly she sleeps! Although she is holding a mother painted with chalk, she is also a mother in her soul. Mom is gone, still in my heart. In that young mind, my mother hugged her and never left.
Tears are warm and cool after they flow out. The sleeping position of the little girl's fetus made me see the initial warmth and warmth of life.
Neighboring San 'ang, the couple died in a car accident. A pair of children, my sister is eight years old and my brother is six years old, living with my grandfather who is over eighty years old.
They like playing parents best. My parents went to work, chatting on the phone, petting and complaining ... My parents came back from the Spring Festival, fried new year's goods, set off firecrackers and asked for red envelopes ... My parents went out again, whispering and making promises ... The stories that happened or didn't happen, the stories that didn't happen, they performed vividly and were fascinated.
Teachers and students took pity on them and donated new schoolbags and stationery, but they didn't want them. Although theirs is worn out, their parents bought it anyway.
I play games with them every time I go back to my hometown. I can't play well, but I can borrow a father's shoulder to keep warm for a while.
Seven years ago, several literary friends formed "Four Trees" and vowed to rebuild "Jian 'an Style". Too young, life slowly turns us back to our original shape and becomes an invertebrate. Nobody mentions literature now. In time, it is more like a hazy dream of spring.
I also secretly wrote "Tofu Block". No real name, no humanity, occasional publication, occasional meager remuneration, occasional joy, occasional loss. Seven years later, I am still standing still, my dreams are looming, and my life is itchy and painful. I also want to change, but it goes against the original intention of returning to the city. Only my parents are proud and satisfied. Every time I go home, it's like Chinese New Year. I never thought I was their greatest asset.
Dreams, like first love, may never get married, but they will never expire and never fade. I'm not afraid. I am still single in the article.
Zhuangzi's wife died and she sang. Keiko said: Don't cry is enough, beating gongs and drums is not too much! Zhuangzi said: Otherwise. I am also generous! She was lifeless, invisible and lifeless, but she became alive, tangible and alive, and now she is dead. "This is the stage of spring, autumn, winter and summer." She rested in peace between heaven and earth. "I cried with it and thought I couldn't live any longer, so I stopped."
The front is slight cold, and the back is Xiao Nuan. Turn around and see clearly; Turn it over and you will understand completely. This is the time sequence, and so is the world.