Small village

The small village in my memory, every dusk. Standing on the roof of your own house, looking around, it is full of vitality. The smoke surrounded the rows of buildings, as well as the people who herded cattle and returned home, the people who took a small bucket to drench vegetables, the grandmothers and grandfathers sitting in the square chatting, and the little monkey children playing beside. All this seems so harmonious and stable. I love chatting, eating and playing cards with my family under the big yellow bark tree next to my hometown. And watching the stars together, the picture is really beautiful, really good. Even if you sit in the room and play, you won’t feel bored, because the noise from outside sometimes makes you laugh. But now, I go out to study. I only spend a short summer vacation in a small village. Yes, the picture before is just like the Water Moon in the mirror, that is the past. No matter how hard I try to recall, I can’t find the past time. Because some people left and some went out, leaving all the loneliness of the small village. At this moment, I am standing on the roof of my own house. Looking around, I could only stand by a tall building, but I knew it was empty inside. There are no rows of buildings surrounded by smoke any more. There were no people who herded cattle and returned home, not to mention those who carried small barrels of vegetables, and no children playing in the square. Yes, there are only a few empty nesters in the square for the rest of their lives. And in my home, the old Yellow Fruit Tree has been cut down. Sitting in the room, I couldn’t even laugh. Too quiet, too depressing. Only the small animals in the evening were singing desperately, only the lazy wind was blowing, and even the residual leaves covered on the ground could not be pulled up. Looking out of the window, my heart was like being tied with a knot, full of unspeakable loneliness welled up in my heart. It’s like being trapped in water and unable to breathe. Others say that time is ruthless. In my opinion, it is because everyone has made mistakes. I always sigh with emotion because I don’t cherish it and always leave regrets. I know, I just made this mistake. In the evening, I look for the past. Like a devil, tearing apart the scars of the village’s growth. I don’t think I should sigh. As time grows, the village grows. After all, the beauty of the small village has always existed and never disappeared. Looking at this small village, I know that it has just grown up. Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. I think, if I am a man, be accepted… From today on, I want to be happy I read “the biography of Hulan River” long time ago, and I remember that I was really in a heavy mood for a long time. Which characters caused me… Sick time I sneezed one after another these days. I said someone was reading me and others said I was sick. Finally, the doctor also said I was…