Yesterday, we seemed to be intoxicated with the spring scenery and bathed in the spring light. Unconsciously, we have already smelled the flowers and heard the cicadas. There was a breeze last night. The rain was like smoke and fog. An autumn rain, a cold. After the autumn rain, the cold is thicker. We just felt the smell of autumn. 365 days a year, we go through spring, summer, autumn and winter. Four seasons
The moon is long and the mist is long. The streets of Shuangfeng town are silent. The sky was drizzling with light rain, the paved flagstones were hollow, and the shops on both sides of the street were closed with lights out. From afar, the white cloth with the word “wine” flickered with the wind hung outside the door of the drunk fairy gate. The small town was shaking with the north wind. A carriage was running slowly, and the streets only heard carriages.
At five fifteen in the morning, I got up to six. The process of getting up early is both painful and tangled. Take today as an example, the ideal of getting up early is very plentiful, but the reality is so skinny. Ideally, I would go to bed before 10 o’clock and wake up at exactly five o’clock. I would not be too tired of going to bed and dawdling. I would roll over and do my early homework, or run in the morning, or read or write. I would set aside two hours from the morning after I got up to work.
“San” “Old Lane” that willow leaves in the head of the city, unconsciously and slightly thinner, summer and autumn, come quickly, go is also in a hurry. In the evening before the people, the sunshine of three or two slopes passed lazily, and the shade of the locust was dotted. The old dog lay in front of the hall, drooping his eyelids, and the chair beside him swung lightly. The air seemed quiet and tight. Before the end of the day, the eaves were patten down, moistening the bluestone street.
The sharp alarm bell sounded like a wild bear stuck in a trap suddenly, and like a vampire bat flying around the house, Jiang Xiaomin had nowhere to hide and avoid. She opened her eyes and glanced blankly at the tiny dormitory. Less than six square metres of rooms are almost entirely occupied by iron-framed beds on the upper and lower floors, only very narrow to just about enough.
Situated on the bench, surging literary sails, paddle swaying place, ripple waves, the water is full of tide, trumpet playing, so that Sichuan Prose Society writers of the Ministry of Literature and Friends, swim across literature, for a long time in Chenghua District, Chengdu, the lecture hall circle. A large crowd of athletes, many leaders of national and provincial writers’associations, Cao Shuqing, Lang Dehui, Sun Bingwen, Ouyang Dexiang, Lei Xinqian, Wen Liyuan, Li Qi
I can often see some people around me unhappy, some written into the mood to say, publish a circle of friends; some hidden in the heart, pretending to be strong. They come from work, from love, from family, from life in general. In their eyes, life is like a wild beast that eats no bones. In that case, why not give life a penalty? Man once
Teacher’s day, received WeChat language: Happy Teachers’ Day! Through the mobile phone screen, pull back thoughts, leisurely recall: youth, the first time into society, that unforgettable years of teaching… The summer after the college entrance examination was a hot summer of hope and disappointment in my life. Still remember: the county Zhangbang that morning, before dawn, my mother called me up, after breakfast, to the county town
Literature reading and writing, so that their theoretical study, practical exploration and other aspects, careful and cautious, follow suit, whistle, as a literary, for all the literature, obsessed with literature, swimming across the ocean. This little bit, made a lot of literary and poetry friends, the network, the people in the world, read and meet, listen to chat, cordial exchanges, all in all, let himself, gladly,
In the pot on the balcony, there is a snail, it climbs too slowly, four tentacles constantly stretching, seems to feel the world’s warm and cold, seems to be listening to the world’s joys and sorrows. There was a sweet-scented osmanthus tree in the pot. I saw the snail squirming on the tree trunk. It looked very hard. The hard shell on the back did not give it any sense of security. It watched with vigilance. I guess it’s me.
In my ancestors, and now I, the blood vessels of the body from generation to generation are the blood of totem culture. Totem culture is a good tradition of our tribe. It is the guarantee for the continuation of our tribe. Legend has it that at the beginning of Pangu, the ancestors began to worship totems. They first used sharp stones to draw simple lines of animals, such as tigers, lions and wolves.
On the back of the morning, the clouds of green and grey, running a little white clouds, rushed to the mountains around the river, getting lower and thicker. Finally, the water was thrown to the nearest ridge and gully, roofs and roadside, instantly misty, dripping water into springs, willows swaying like rivers. South driving Loess Plateau. The rain dripped the grass and soaks its leaves in the mud.
The mystery of prose reading lies in picking out something close to the soul from the lines, and singing it beautifully with a kind of charm, a kind of scream, a kind of horn, from the top of the heavenly grace, comfortable and fragrant, quiet and fragrant. The writer Yuan Hong / Casa’s essay, June thoughts, let me experience this feeling. The thought of June harassed the writer’s grasp of style and precision.
Night is my favorite night, because it is quiet, it is quiet enough to make me feel a person’s loneliness and a person’s loneliness. Sitting by the window and looking at the street lamp, I feel lonelier than the street lamp. I believe that everything in the world is alive and soul. Street lights are lit up at night, and it seems to others that street lamps should illuminate that night.
Stagger at the crossroads of the city streets, lost and confused as if losing souls. Towards the left? Backward? Or to the right? The tenderest mottled stars of the autumn night reveal a little pity, looking up at the night sky with a tear of burning water, taking a deep breath from the chest, bumping along the pitted road in search of the way to come, and shivering as the autumn wind sweeps by.
There is a song called “Love of Lavender”. The beautiful picture, the melody, always can not help but close your eyes, intoxicated in the fantastic mood. The fairy tale of the princess and the prince, in the fragrance of lavender lingering in love, as if also telling of all the world for thousands of years, lover’s eternal romantic engagement. On the second day, we all got up very early because of today’s itinerary.
I looked at the days, two months, 03 days, and finally finished uploading. I always shed my own tears in other people’s stories. Although I relived a handful of sweet and sour, bitter and salty, but it was much easier than when I wrote it. It was purely the audience’s feeling, and also had a bystander’s Huida. I remember when my roommate came to the town to see me, I was a little surprised, originally no friendship, these years almost lost contact, suddenly
My love life, LAN Mei, I love morning exercises. Morning exercise is better than walking. I always love to trot around the neighborhood for a few laps, so that after a few laps, my body is slightly sweaty and I can walk faster. At this time, breathing the fresh air, the breeze gently blowing my cheek, listening to the breeze blowing through the leaves of the rustle, the tree birds chirping
The opening of the high-speed highway has greatly shortened the distance from Aletai to Kuitun. This time we started from Bei Tun, near 1 o’clock p.m., and then went straight south. Suddenly thought of driving more than 900 kilometers, it really made me this elderly driver feel pressure
Nearly 20 years ago, it was packed in a small paper box 50 centimeters square: certificates, photos, notes. The cup Lin Xiangben wanted to fall off was not willing. Lin Xiang sent a message of less than 100 words to his colleagues in the work group, and especially left him a private message expressing his thanks and blessings. Turn off the computer and return to the office. Lin Xiang left the box in a sad way.