The night god gently spread his black wings full of stars, lovingly hiding the soft moon under his plump feathers, and the moon's brilliance poured down quietly like water and sprinkled in every corner of the world.
Holding a bright moon, the cool moonlight flows through your fingers. It will flow silently between your fingers, and your hand will suddenly become an artist's hand, playing a beautiful moonlight dance > skillfully spreading the moon carefully cared for by the night god on a clean canvas, and carefully carving the purest moon face on the white marble.
Holding a clear moon, the faint moonlight flows through your fingers. It will be endless and endless. Its endless worries are woven into the most beautiful brocade in the world, covering your warm fingers, so your hands hold the worries of countless people in the world. "The word' Wild Goose' returns, and the West Building will be full in the next month." "How bright the moonlight is at home!" . The lonely moon is not lonely. Besides the stars, there are people who are concerned and their "bring me my shadow and let us three". I don't know how warm I am when I think of that quiet month.
Hold up a bright moon, the gentle moonlight flows through your fingers, it gently embraces your hands, and the faint milky white condenses the dreams of countless people. With a gentle breath, the dream dispersed and scattered all over the floor. They fall into the soil like Bo Gongying's soft umbrella, take root and sprout, and produce colorful flowers. The dream life is conceived in the moonlight, which is as light as the moonlight, but it has a life hotter than the sun.
Holding a bright moon, the clear moonlight flows through your fingers, and the smooth "water surface" becomes a mirror, reflecting your innocent smiling face. In the mirror, there is not only you, but also the moon hanging in the air and its smile. A gust of wind blew and the "water surface" rippled. You are rippling, the moon is rippling, and the whole world is rippling. The surroundings are no longer as quiet as the dead silence in the moon palace. There was laughter in the air. With the moon shining, the night is no longer lonely.
Holding a bright moon, I really feel her flowing through your fingers and smelling the fragrance of nature. You are so careful that you dare not spit out the "true beauty" on the tip of your tongue, making people afraid to breathe.
Excellent composition in the second year of high school, traveling far at the age of 28.
All cars are for the distance, just like all roads are waiting for a long journey.
People probably always have a restless factor, clamoring for restlessness and rampaging. Only when you really set foot on the journey can you find your way home. In order to get out of the cave, people opened up a way out, and in order to go further, people invented the car.
Cars connect home with the distance.
Lu Ji said, "There are chariots and horses at the door, so I want to send them to my hometown." There are chariots and horses passing by in front of the door, coming from far away from home. The mind of a wanderer is often evoked by the horses and chariots in his hometown. Cars are more intimate than roads. It accompanied him all the way from his hometown, and he was deeply immersed in the crazy ashes all over the sky. Occasionally, the brakes fail, and he is as fast as a refugee, with a certain soul and intelligence. My hometown is the black soil left in the tire seam, and it is the world outside the window when Wan Li runs around.
Cars connect reality and dreams.
Yu Hua wrote in Going Out at Eighteen: "Now I don't care about any hotel at all. This car, this driver, this seat makes me feel at ease. I don't know where the car is going, and neither does he. It doesn't matter to me where it is in front anyway. As long as the car is still running, we will go and have a look. " Yes, as long as the car is moving, just drive over and have a look. Life is so strange, you don't need to know where you are ahead, hold your beloved horse under your seat and get up and run to the horizon at any time. No wonder Sanmao gently called her car "White Horse". A white horse is not a horse, just like a Hongqiao leading into the distance.
Cars connect the present and the past.
A few decades ago, a short foreign man came to Oxford in a carriage called "Greyhound" by Americans. He walked around a town smaller than a stamp, then went to Faulkner's cemetery and sat alone for a long time. Greyhound arrived at the station and left. A story about the warmth of a car, the life-and-death communication between Garcia Marquez and william faulkner, is conducted through the "Greyhound". Only the "Greyhound" knows what Marquez is thinking and how Faulkner responded. The cars here seem to make the reality and spiritual hometown highly compatible.
People have experienced the legend of the bicycle era, the frivolity of the motor vehicle era, and the familiarity and cherish of the motor vehicle era. Some people go with you, others go home with you. It doesn't matter. The important thing is that they have been with you for a long time.
I know that there is a car. Whenever I leave and leave, the way home is real and will not be empty.
Comments: Yu Hua tells the story of a teenager riding alone in Going Out at Eighteen. Inspired by this, the author of this paper thinks about "automobile" from three angles: automobile connecting home and distance, reality and dream, present and past. From Luji and Sanmao to Marquez and Faulkner, the material about "car" is readily available, and the perceptual rationality is intertwined, which enriches the connotation of "car" and triggers associations about the present, dreams and future.
In life, we should all prepare an exquisite comb and often use it to comb the dead branches and leaves in life. Let our life be more perfect and leave no regrets.
Time is fair to everyone. In such a limited life, we should always carefully take stock of those people and things in the past. Only by taking stock of your life regularly and clearing your mind can you have a clearer goal to guide yourself forward.
Tao Yuanming rarely has the ambition to "escape from the four seas" ("Miscellaneous Poems"). He was filial to Taiyuan for eighteen years (393). With the desire of "great help for life", he served as a wine sacrifice in Jiangzhou. Tao Yuanming's thirteen-year official career ended with his resignation from pengze county. These thirteen years were thirteen years in which he tried, disappointed and finally despaired in order to realize his ideal and ambition of "helping the poor". Finally, the poem "Return to Xi Ci" shows the determination to break with the upper ruling class and not do as the Romans do. After that, he retired from the countryside and became a famous "pastoral poet". Abandon fame and fortune and pursue spiritual relaxation and pleasure. This is the result of his inventory of life.
Counting the process of life is both happy and painful. Because there are too many things in life that make us attached to each other, it is always difficult to give up. Counting life is not as simple as counting goods. Life is bitter and sweet, sad and happy. Whether it is right or not is whether we can know the past. However, since we are going to travel far, we must go into battle lightly, otherwise it is not the hardships of the road that crush us, but the heavy luggage.
In our daily life, we should always take stock. For example, a small bad habit of ours may affect your life if it is not cleaned up in time. Conversely, a good habit can also benefit you for life. I remember a story: a company hired a manager with a high salary, and many highly educated people came to apply. It took a long time to apply, and everyone was waiting patiently, but then the supervisor came out and said, "We have found the person we are looking for, and today's application is over." Everyone is puzzled by the monk Zhang Er. It turned out that the test center was on the page on the ground (the requirement of this position is to be economical and careful), and that person picked up that page. He won a good job because of a small move.
Many people are always in a hurry on the road to fame and fortune, forgetting to look back, forgetting to look back. Our life is full of joys and sorrows. Let's put all the unhappiness behind us, let the sun shine everywhere, let happiness take the place of sadness, keep counting our lives and constantly surpass ourselves.
For a time, the movie Jobs was released, which made countless fruit fans surge with emotion. People still remember Steve Jobs' famous saying: Follow your heart and intuition bravely, only your heart and intuition can know what you really think, and everything else is secondary. When I saw this sentence, my eyes flashed a firm light.
All along, I knew I was different from others. My mother takes care of me personally every day, smiling at me every day but always sobbing quietly after I fall asleep. I can't accomplish anything without the help of others. Of course, I have also become a key "protected object" in the eyes of teachers and a small sand that students can't hold up. I have been laughed at and looked down upon, and my heart is cold.
When I am older, I can understand why my mother always looks at me with guilty eyes and says, "Son, my mother is sorry for you." I don't blame my mother. I firmly believe that fate is in my own hands. When God tortured me, he gave me a different life and different tests.
At that time, after all, the thought was simple and my mind was full of unrealistic ideas. I fantasized about growing wings and soaring in the air more than once, and I also looked forward to the rebirth of my legs and grass seedlings together in the warm rain with the arrival of spring. When I confided these words to my mother, my mother hugged me and tears mixed with sweat and pain kept falling. It took a long time to say, "As long as you believe, there will be miracles." .
Being laughed at or looked down upon by classmates since childhood, I gradually developed an introverted personality. When they were chasing and frolicking, my grades soared into the sky like a rocket, and I was among the best in my class. When my test scores dropped again and again, my classmates threw their eyes at me with shock and envy. I felt no different from a normal person. I can also study and learn well, so I am fascinated by learning. Just because you know your own shortcomings, you have to work twice as hard as others to stand out. I told myself not to give up halfway and give up on myself. Now that God has opened that window for me, I can't give up the opportunity to fly out of the cage and soar in the blue sky.
I still remember when I raised silkworms. When the white fat silkworm was wrapped in thick silk, people just wanted to give him a hand, but my mother gently told me, "If you want to change, you must let it break through layers of obstacles from the inside out, but outside help is harmful. And we are like a silkworm in a thick cocoon, we need to break through the bondage by our own strength, instead of relying on others to regard ourselves as the weak, so this is a gradual sinking and is placed in a place that will never exist again.
I swim in the sea of books every day, like a bookworm, intoxicated by the charm of language between the lines, calm down by the charm of foreign languages, concentrate on every practical problem, such as cocoon, and wrap myself deeper and deeper until my ears are silent and my mood is distracted.
I have also fallen to the bottom because of others' questioning and ridicule, but learning tells me that only by reading a lot of books, such as heroes standing on the peak that others have not reached, will a little imperfection become beautiful. Use learning to tolerate deformity, so that deformity will eventually change with moths, which is breathtaking.
This is a sentimental season. The leaves on the tree gradually turn yellow and then fall, becoming fallen leaves that fly away as soon as the wind blows. It is autumn. -Very sad
For a long time, I closed myself in my own world, where there was no one and nothing, but I just sat alone and seemed to be expecting something. Occasionally a ray of sunshine shines in. I'm surprised. Once upon a time, my mood was not like this. My world is full of smiles and joy, and I am lively and cheerful. I am a happy elf. Now, everything in the past is vivid. My partner and I went up the mountain to pick mildew, and we also warmed up and jumped rope together. I saw that beautiful thing before my eyes again. Although I was in a mess at that time, I was happy. At that time, I was so free and relaxed that I could do whatever I wanted. Time flies, and childhood no longer belongs to me. I grew up and studied. Now I concentrate on my study. Since then, I have changed. There are only homework and tasks in my world. I can hear the sound of wind and rain and reading, but I can't hear my own joy. -It's so lonely
Now, I can occasionally hear the children playing, but the laughter is so light, so little. I thought: they must be trapped in a sea of books and studying hard! The same pain
The wind is still blowing and the leaves are still falling. Are they also sad for the fallen leaves? I left my home, my native land. Although I have different experiences with fallen leaves, I feel the same as fallen leaves. The same sadness. Autumn, a sad season, reminds people of the scars in their hearts. Who will I share this endless sadness with? Is it a fallen leaf? "Leaves fall to the roots", knowing that you and I are not in the same boat. You finally have your own home. I will bless you silently in the distance, and you can find your home. And I will always live in my own world, my own cage. I am a "prisoner bird" who wants to fly but can't fly high. This season is sad. However, whenever I think that in this sad season, there are many people who are as sad as me, even more sad than me, my sadness will drop to the lowest point. The same pain
Every time I wake up at night, I will think of Li Qingzhao's "things are people who want to stop everything, and tears flow first."
In pursuit of a childhood poem by Wang Changling, I went to Xinjiang to find my dream sandbar.
Came to a dilapidated city wall, an old man sat in the thin twilight, smoking a cigarette, as if breathing the aftertaste of history. I asked him the direction of Loulan. He looked up at me, smiled foolishly, and then pointed to the northwest. "Don't go. It's a long way. There is nothing to see. Only people like you are stupid and hard to find. I am afraid that in the end, it is better not to go, so as not to be sad. " After listening to his words, I can't help but be surprised that there are still people who are as fascinated by the words of ancient literati as I am. I really don't know what kind of history and dreams are buried in that land, let us pursue it day after day and year after year!
I went after all. Stepping into the soft sand, the sun is burning on the skin, and the rope holding the camel has been wet with sweat. I still stubbornly move forward, hoping that time can leave some traces for me to mourn. But along the way, I really only left sticky disappointment and tired sigh. I thought I would see a little green in the overwhelming sand. I thought I would hear rustling A?vagho?a and crisp camel bells during the long journey. I thought I would see Lop Nur in the sunset in the hoarse voice of crows, like a beautiful bride standing in this quiet and blue sky. It's just, it's just the Silk Road. Has it really been crushed into historical dust with the torrent of time?
The only person who answered me was Feng Gang, who was unstoppable, who rolled up Loulan's sobs.
Lop Nur is like a choking fish, lying in a dry shallow pool. Lop Nur described in the book, like a blue crystal, flows under the folds of Loulan, dotted with ancient China civilization. How did it become cracked? Man, how many natural scenery, civilizations and traditions have your hands destroyed? When the horseshoe is full of silks and satins and intoxicated with the bustling scene of Loulan, when the delicate white toes of Hu Ji dance lightly on the Persian carpet, when the Hu people walk through the crowds of various colors and suddenly hear the melodious sound coming from the alley, will you think that this is the last cry of the ancient Loulan in the dust and sand of the city? Humans, you will only watch the wound of this splendid ancient civilization bleed drop by drop, and let the wind from Asia blow away the last fertile soil of Loulan.
When I was ready to leave, I couldn't help flinching. I am afraid that Loulan, which I dream of day and night, will become a ruin in this sunset, standing alone in the indifferent sand, watching the decline and fall of mankind with the eyes of outsiders, as if it were as magnificent as the brief intersection of light and shadow, as if it nourished the flourishing soil of the ancient Mediterranean business circle, as if its eyebrows were as kind as those who soaked the blue sky of Loulan into the soul, and it was destined to wither in the desert with Lop Nur.
Maybe I have accepted human's destruction of nature and desecration of civilization. Finally, I saw the dead wasteland, not the drizzle woven in the south of the Yangtze River, not the crying of Hunan's childish moonlit night, nor the parting of my hometown Liu Yin. This is Loulan, this is desert and this is wasteland. Here is the flag of the general against the wind, here is the clank of iron bones with blood flowing everywhere, and here is a terrible cemetery. Feng Gang, who is bitter and cold in the northwest, is playing the music of parting, and he can't help but think of Wang Wei's poem: "Advise you to drink more and go out to Yangguan for no reason." Did Loulan Huji really have such feelings when she left with the caravan? This will only make me feel more sorry for this empty city. It was the people who admired it as soon as possible who personally disintegrated its existence. It is the arrogance of the Central Plains emperor that is destroying its fragile life. It is the arrogance and pride of the people in this land of China that has enabled it to survive for thousands of years. Civilization is instantly covered with sand.
From its remaining rubble, it is not difficult to see that it once flourished. People from different regions and with different accents, some brought spices, leather and livestock in exchange for tea, silk and porcelain, while others brought gold, silver, agate and pearls in exchange for a large number of sheep slaves and land. Oh, there is also the former residence of the first beauty in Loulan, which is now in a corner of the city, waiting for the slow and heavy excavation and destruction by archaeologists. The winding river around the city is just a deep river, and the yellow sky kills the blue sky. Old Populus euphratica stood stubbornly on the sand and stone with a posture of fighting against the deterioration of nature, and Meishi stood alone, like a handsome guy on the Silk Road in the past. We can no longer hear the bells ringing when horses are frolicking, the bleating of milky sheep mixed with the shepherd's flute calling for sheep, the backs of wandering caravans and businessmen wrapped in white gauze rushing into the desert, and the splendid civilization painstakingly built in the desert. Perhaps we can only get a glimpse of Loulan's prosperity in textbooks.
If our city turns into Loulan, if our buildings turn into weathered rocks, if we who wantonly destroy nature turn into sand in the desert, where will the urban civilization we have worked so hard to manage now be destroyed by nature with time? Maybe, maybe there will only be an old man and his shabby cigarette rod left.
What a hard and lonely spiritual journey this is!
I watched Cultural Journey when I was fifteen. I carefully looked at my mother's bookcase full of books, and then wrote down this prestigious "cultural journey". When the pages are opened, a heavy and solemn atmosphere unique to history and culture comes to us. Whether it is the deep and desolate Taoist pagoda and the sunny snow, or the soft and sad white-haired Suzhou and Jiangnan towns, or the lonely Tianzhu Mountain and the stormy sky pavilion, they all point to the difficult mental journey of China literati, which always makes me crazy. Finally, I will, like Professor Yu, "close my eyes, calm my heart and return to the seriousness of history." After reading thirty-eight essays, I seem to have gained a kind of inner meaning, a kind of verve that has swallowed up for thousands of years.
Accompanied by Professor Yu all the way, from the vast sandstorm in Dunhuang, from the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River and through those quiet and ancient spaces, I got a glimpse of the excavation and thinking of literature in a corner of Chinese Millennium civilization. A "cultural journey" brought me an epiphany, rich nutrition, sweet food, and the freshness of ancient Mohist scriptures.
Looking back at this road, I really gained a lot. Reading is a kind of meaning and fun for me. My mother's bookshelf has added A Brief History of Everything, which seems to be too busy in this tense high school, but the experience of reading 800 good books in New Oriental University, the principal, tells me that books will still be full in the future. ...
I used to use jokes to measure my distance from life, which seemed to bring me closer to life. But now, I find that this behavior undoubtedly makes me see the insurmountable gap between myself and my life. After all, I have stood on the threshold of my second year of high school.
At this time, the broken sand in the hourglass quietly flowed away. When unforgettable memories fade away, when the pace of life tends to be flat, I inadvertently came to this fork. Suffering from the taste of high school life, I have entered the choice of arts and sciences. I said to myself, "I'm a sophomore!" " "This is not only an affirmation of my past year, but also a challenge to the upcoming second year of high school.
I still remember the back of the students on the basketball court, the laughter between classes, and the jokes that the students felt funny in the activity class. But now, more students are immersed in it-because I have stood on the threshold of Grade Two.
"People in the second year of high school can't help themselves, but no matter how hard and tired they are, they can't be discouraged. There is still a heavy summer ahead waiting for us to harvest. " He is in the afterglow of dusk, I think so.
Now is the turn of summer and autumn, representing the alternation and turning point of the old and the new.
So I took this opportunity to try to change myself: in class, I listened to every word the teacher said, instead of worrying about the familiar names in my ears, I was excited about the opportunity to speak. During the break, whenever there is an opportunity, I will follow the teacher's steps and ask him why. I have walked the road I have never walked, leaving two lonely footprints on the road. I believe I can withstand the heat of summer and usher in a fruitful autumn.
I really doubt that senior two has magical power. It seems that somehow, a special magnetic field is set around us to guide us in the only direction.
Finger count, yeah! We are a big step closer to the college entrance examination there. I couldn't help sweating and my heart was pounding. I immediately picked up a pen and wrote. Speaking of the second year of high school, people have learned to sigh. Those days when they fled like flies, as well as the beautiful and short-lived friendship established by the first year of high school, we have learned to cherish it in sighs.
We are standing on the runway of Grade Two, waiting for the final sprint, and will not stop for anyone, because I know that there is still the scenery of the next stop waiting for me to enjoy.
Campus life is rich and colorful, and the seeds of love rebellion and passion can be seen everywhere in middle school campuses. They struggled to find "love". However, their so-called "love" is nothing more than an impulsive love for each other or a worship of someone. This kind of "love" is immature and can't even be called love.
Their other half didn't actually show up.
I often listen to my friends talking about their Prince Charming and telling the joy of being with my lover. However, this last secret often ends in breaking up. Serious will leave irreparable trauma. Some people are even afraid to talk about love.
Green olives are usually bitter. However, the rebellion of youth makes me want to win this green olive.
I have long forgotten the day when I met him, but I can be sure it was noon in summer. He rode his bike in the roadside garden, waiting for the green light to flash. Perhaps, it was that unintentional gaze that planted a small seed of love in my heart. I don't know how long it took, but it began to sprout. Maybe this is fate. Along the way, I have been thinking about why I have special feelings for a stranger. Is this the seed of love that has nothing to do with love?
When I walked to the door, I subconsciously looked back. It turned out that he lived in the previous building. Sweet smile, walked into the floor hole. Tell yourself not to let yourself fall into the mire of feelings, and don't have blind "love". However, I finally got stuck, and I got stuck deeply. From then on, it seems that every day I will give myself a "reason" to wait for him to appear.
I often chat with my friends in the fitness park between the two buildings, and more often wait for the "Prince Charming" in my heart to appear. There is no denying that he is handsome. It really surprised me to say the word "handsome" from my mouth. I would never say these two words, but I would say he is handsome. It seems that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
However, nothing started between us, because we never said a word and didn't know how to say it. It was not until I met his girlfriend later that I found myself missing the best opportunity. The first and last sentence I said to him that day-"You dropped your wallet." He turned to pick it up and smiled and said "thank you" to me. "You're welcome." "Do you live in the building behind? My name is Li Yunlong. You can come and play with me later. " "Thank you, my name is September."
Maybe this is a joke from God. The day after seeing his girlfriend again, we actually "met". I cried, but I soon calmed down.
Love is too blind, and only oneself is hurt.
Perhaps, this is fate.
Sometimes it's more self-consolation, because there will be a better person who loves you and has been waiting for you in the future. Let bygones be bygones after the rain, this is a new beginning.
10 The year we first met, I was in Grade Two.
I was a sophomore the year we met again.
It only took us three years to appear in each other's lives.
His name is Yu Shao, just like a beautiful jade in youth.
Between him and me, like two intersecting straight lines, we are getting closer and closer. After meeting, they ran counter to each other and drifted away.
However, the warmth he gave me was like the most dazzling and beautiful fireworks in the night sky. The moment I crossed, it was printed in my heart and became eternal.