Memory

A hut. In the evening, everything was silent, accompanied by a person quietly under the small oil lamp. In the dead of night, from the distant moonlight in the Wild came the intoxicating sound of the flute, low back and far away, as drunk as a fool with the sound of the flute gently touching your heart, so long, immersed in a wonderful happiness like a dream for a long time, until the sleepiness came quietly. With this beauty, I gradually fell asleep in the morning. When I woke up, I opened the door and welcomed the bright sunshine. Outside the door were the threshing ground, the rollers on the field and the haystacks on the edge of the field, and the rooster singing on the stone mill. The path on both sides was full of colorful flowers. It rolled away from the foot of the cottage, turned a corner, disappeared behind the slope bush, and appeared in front of the distance. The sky is clear and clear, the whole world is surprisingly quiet, and there is no one. Under the bright sky in the distance, only the voice of women working in the field vaguely came from the vast field. This scene, this picture, has been deeply printed in my mind since my childhood until now. Not only will it never fade, but also it will last forever. I have been thinking that if I were a painter, I must draw this picture beautifully with oil painting. I heard that the first residence of our family when they moved from the northeast to Nanjing was Huangjiawa. I always believed that the above picture was the memory of Huangjiawa when I was young. If it was not Huang jiawa, it must be my memory of my previous life, because it was deeply engraved in my mind in my whole life, too profound and beautiful. 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…

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