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Every time I read Ma Zhiyuan’s poem “Tianjing Sha Qiu Si”, I couldn’t help thinking of the Brook at the gate of my hometown, which treasured too many past memories of my childhood, after twenty or thirty years, the Brook has already become a vast pool of water, and the past has also become my slight homesickness. When I was in junior high school, I once wrote a lyric prose named my hometown, which described the stream in my dream. The winding stream was surrounded by green mountains like silver snakes, intertwined with running from afar, slowly flowing through the door of the house, with the shadows of green willows on both sides, rushing to the distant place. The clear stream touches the cobblestones of different shapes, and flocks of small fishes are playing in the water, sometimes going upstream, sometimes kissing my feet. The water and the mountain are fascinating. After correcting the composition, the comment given by the Chinese teacher is: Describe your hometown so beautiful that you love your hometown. I think yes, no matter how poor or isolated the rural areas are, there is still a feeling that is hard to give up in my heart, which is vague and incomparable. I love my hometown and recall the past happily. Once upon a time, a group of friends secretly ran to the stream in the hot summer, jumped into the pool with bare buttocks and swam happily among the clear streams; Once Upon a Time, we made bamboo rows and wooden rows from bamboo trees cut from the mountain, carrying a group of children like monkeys, singing loud folk songs and boating on the stream. Once upon a time, we took fishing nets to learn the appearance of adults, put the net from one side of the stream to the other side, and then look forward to the joy of success; Once upon a time, we were wearing small underpants and carrying small bamboo baskets, shuttling back and forth in the shoal of the stream, I felt a lot of shrimps, snails and crabs under the stones. During the years when I went to school far away from my hometown, I heard that gold deposits were found on the mountain near the upstream stream, people from all directions flocked there, setting off a wave of gold panning. The green mountains with peaks and green mountains were encroached into holes. Some simple gold purification processing plants came into being. After a rainstorm, the once clear stream became turbid, and the fish in the water were almost destroyed by chemical excrement. This was really a sudden change, which made my heart feel like a severe winter, I can’t tell the feeling of pain. Such days lasted for many years. Until the gold companies of the provincial government entered the standard mining, the crazy gold rush action of thousands of people was declared to be over. The Brook at the door of the House gradually restored its former calm, healing itself with the fleeting years of passing water. In those years, the government started to build reservoirs in my hometown. We also became a member of the glorious army of immigrants and moved to places far away from mountain villages. The stream has already been submerged in the deep pool and clear water, but in my mind there is still its clear appearance and the vivid past. Maybe the farther you are from your hometown, the more nostalgia you will have in your heart; Maybe the longer you stay away from home, the more lingering the homesickness in your heart will be. Therefore, in my spare time, I will still read the childhood with clear water in my memory, making my homesickness intoxicated in the fragrance of flowers filled with praise (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring

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