There are twilight clouds in the world, and dim lights in the city

Wen|Scholar

The neon lights are coming on, night is falling, and the deserted city is back to life. Sitting on the bus, slowly slipping through the streets and alleys, watching the hustle and bustle of people. The diners in the restaurant were chatting and laughing, and the pedestrians under the bus stop looked around. Children were playing on the roadside, and young lovers were whispering under the street lights.

For a moment, I felt that the fireworks in the city were so charming. I was in a busy city, but my heart was extremely peaceful. Looking at the twilight clouds in the night sky and the dim lights of the city, I felt that life was worth it for a moment.

The bumpy journey reminded me of a morning a few years ago, when I met a migrant worker who had just gotten on the bus, carrying a big bag, a pole and a Shovel stood next to me. When I stood up to offer him my seat, he insisted on standing aside because he was afraid that he would soil the seat. After the conversation, he thanked me and then continued to stand where he was, protecting himself with his body. I stood aside with sadness in my heart, tears moistening my eyes. I didn't dare to look directly at him. When I got off the car, I took a sneak peek and saw that he was still standing upright.

Along the way, I thought that migrant workers are the builders of this city, and they are also the spirit and soul of the city. It is precisely because of such a group of unknown strivers that the city can prosper. Why are they treated like this in city life? I think maybe that's not the case, it's because of their simple and honest character. In life, putting yourself in others' shoes is the greatest kindness.

Pay tribute to the unknown strivers and pay tribute to the most beautiful scenery in the city! May they all be treated gently by life.

A reminder sounded in the car, breaking my thoughts. The car had arrived.

When I got off the bus, I passed by and saw a gentle and elegant girl. It reminded me of the girl holding an oil-paper umbrella in the long and lonely rainy alley. . Cold, desolate and melancholy. Maybe somewhere in the city, the beautiful story has just begun.

There are twilight clouds in the world, and dim lights in the city. As night falls, the stories behind the city quietly emerge. Do you have any special stories or feelings about the city? Welcome to share with scholars in the comment area.