The story in the photo is written in a subtitle

Ⅰ Composition "The Story in the Photo" - Inscription

The Story in the Photo

A photo records a story; a photo tells a story An experience; a photo, evokes a memory; a photo, full of emotion. It is such a small but profound photo, an ordinary yet unusual photo, so worthy of my collection.

My favorite photo was taken on the first day of the first lunar month in 2001 in the living room on the third floor of my new home. It is clearly visible in the photo that I am sitting on the sofa with my cousin, my cousin, my grandparents and my five grandsons. In my hand, I was holding a big apple picked from the plate on the table in front of me. Every time I pull this photo out of my album, the story behind it is still fresh in my mind.

It was the first day of the first lunar month when I was two years old. My grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts came to my house as guests. While chatting, my father asked me to take a photo with my grandparents, cousins, grandparents, and grandchildren. After knowing where I was sitting, I hurriedly found a reason to ask my father to go to the fourth floor with me first.

When I got to the fourth floor, my father asked me what I wanted to do. I spoke out what was in my heart: "Why don't I sit in the middle?" "Because my cousin is the eldest of the three children, and you and your cousin are both grandsons of your grandparents, so of course you have to sit next to your grandparents." Dad replied road. "But grandma is so old. If others see it, will she laugh at me?" "You are wrong to think so," my father then taught me earnestly, "How can others laugh at you? Although grandma is old, But she has gone through decades of hardships for our family to be happy today. As the younger generation, we should respect and love her. Without grandma, there would be no dad, and without dad, there would be no you! "I suddenly realized and realized the mistake I had just made. If others see me sitting next to my grandma in the photo, not only will they not make fun of me, but they will think that I am a good child who respects his elders and is caring!

I happily returned to the living room on the third floor, walked briskly to where I was sitting for the photo, took a big apple with respect, and handed it to grandma. Grandma smiled slightly, handed the apple back to me, and said kindly: "Grandma is old and her teeth are no longer useful. Grandma understands the idea of ??a good grandson. It's better for you to eat it!" At this time, Dad shouted: "Look at me, everyone." Come here!" I held the apple left by my grandma in my hand and stared at the camera. There was only a "click" sound, and this beautiful moment remained in the camera forever. After posting the photos, I took them, had them molded, and kept them in a photo album.

A photo contains such a story; a photo makes my mind fly back to ten years ago; a photo gives me an education of love. It is such an ordinary yet extraordinary photo that taught me how to respect and love our elders. Only in this way will our lives become better, our families happier, and our society more harmonious.

Ⅱ How to write the story in the photo (composition)

A photo fell down, write the story of the photo. Oh, that's it, it's that old photo that is treasured deep in my memory. It was that unforgettable trip that made me understand the meaning of bravery and realize the spirit of manliness. When I was ten years old, my father and I traveled to Yuzui, Dujiang. The morning we arrived at Dujiang Yuzui, the sky was gray, and after a while, a thunderstorm started. It was precisely because of the rain that our trip was hindered. It was not until noon that my father and I arrived at the tourist destination. After getting off the bus, I saw a chain bridge about 200 meters long. We have just studied the text "Flying to Capture Luding Bridge". The rope bridge in front is slightly better than the iron cable bridge in the text. It is covered with wooden boards, and the distance between the wooden boards is about five centimeters. Dad said we should walk from this bridge to the other side. I panicked: Dad, I’m afraid! What should I do if it falls? It doesn't matter, my son is a man and the bravest. Dad said with a smile. With my father's encouragement, I cautiously stretched out my feet and stepped on the board.

Unexpectedly, as soon as I stepped on it, the board started to shake. I was scared and panicked. The rain-wet board slipped under my feet and I fell all over the place. When my father saw my frightened look, he provoked me: Anyone who doesn't walk over by himself is a little mouse! I was so competitive that I immediately fell into my father's trap and shouted: "I'm willing to risk everything. Who is afraid of who?" So I patted my *** and got back on the road. One step, two steps, three steps... I moved forward slowly like a snail. Dad, the bridge is moving! I'm afraid! I held on to the iron ropes on both sides and stood there, not daring to move. Is the bridge about to break? Jingjing, run forward! Dad's voice came from behind. After hearing this, my heart beat faster and I didn't dare to look back at my father. At this moment, there was a whoosh, and a little boy about the same age as me rushed past me. He walked so briskly and steadily, which made me surprised and envious. If he can walk well, can't I walk well? An inexplicable power rose from my heart, and I wanted to be fearless and move forward like him! So, I rushed forward behind him. Strangely enough, the bridge stopped shaking and the wooden planks under my feet were no longer slippery. It was no different from walking on flat ground. After arriving on the other side, it took a while before dad arrived. From afar, he gave me a thumbs up, and then took a photo with me on the rope bridge, saying that he wanted to commemorate the birth of a brave little boy. After taking the photo, he proudly said that it was a very clever move for him to swing the iron rope behind him to put me in danger and then run away. How did he know that it was not his tactics that worked, but a brave and fearless little boy who gave me courage?

Ⅲ How to write the title of the story in the photo,

Those things that happened in the past

Listen to what I said

Ⅳ Use detailed description to write an article with the title of the story in the photo

Because of the detailed description You can write a photo story, which is a group photo in a scenic spot, and then write about how to enjoy the scenic spot.

Ⅳ Write an essay using the story in the photo.

On August 28, 1937, it was dark and the sun was blocked by layers of dark clouds. But the Shanghai South Railway Station was still bustling with activity. People preparing to take the train did not notice at all that a small group of heavily armed Japanese soldiers were approaching the entrance of the train station. They held submachine guns in their hands and bullet bags hanging on their waists, and quickly scanned the busy people around them with their wolf-like eyes.

Suddenly, a man who looked like a commander raised his submachine gun and fired at the noisy crowd. Several young people at the ticket gate were so frightened by this sudden attack that they were stunned. Fell in a pool of blood. Among the children who were resting and playing in front of the platform, some were timid and were so frightened that they burst into tears; there were also some daring ones who fled in all directions. The entire train station was shrouded in fear, and there was a murderous aura in the air.

Accompanied by a "buzzing" sound, several bowtie fighter jets of different colors and shapes were flying towards here. They were seen hovering over the train station like a few ferocious eagles. Dropped a few bombs and then flew away. The bomb fell into the South Railway Station like lightning, and the South Railway Station, which was bustling an hour ago, instantly turned into ruins.

From the ruins of the South Railway Station came bursts of childish crying, and a little boy was seen sitting on the ground splattered with blood, crying helplessly. He was dressed in ragged clothes, and his thin body supported his big head. He was obviously another poor child with malnutrition. He is a poor child, but also the luckiest child. When the enemy plane dropped the bomb, the young parents pressed their sleeping child under their bodies and provided him with a place of refuge with their own lives. A few minutes later, a steel plate fell squarely on the couple...

When the child woke up, he could not find his parents among the unrecognizable corpses around him. The child may have realized that the person who loves him most has left him, and he doesn't know what else to do except cry. ah! This is a baby about 1 year old. He is covered in blood. Some wounds are covered with soot, and some wounds have suppurated.

No wonder he cried so much. When the enemy plane dropped bombs, his parents pinned him under their bodies and used their own lives to provide him with a place of refuge. How lucky he was to be the only person who miraculously survived the bombing. Two days later, the unconscious child was rescued by the search and rescue team of the Soviet Embassy in China. His parents had been crushed to death.

At that time, the search and rescue team leader told reporters: "There are really not many Chinese people who can be rescued in this situation." Now, that child is 70 years old and living in Russia. The Japanese army bombed the Shanghai train The South Station incident left an indelible shadow on his soul. Here, I would like to appeal to the whole world: "Save the children, push the war to the abyss, and bring peace to walk with us

Ⅵ Story in Photos, how to write this essay

Story in Photos Essay

Part 1: Story in Photos

A photo records a story; a photo tells an experience; a photo evokes a memory; a photo is full of emotions. It is such a small but profound photo. Photos, ordinary and unusual photos, are so worth collecting.

My favorite photo was taken in the living room on the third floor of my new home on the first day of the first lunar month in 2001. . In the photo, you can clearly see a photo of me and my cousin, cousin, grandparents, and grandson sitting on the sofa. In my hand, I picked a big apple from the plate on the table in front of me. Every time I pull this photo out of the photo album, I still remember the story behind it.

It was the first day of the first lunar month when I was two years old, and my grandparents took my cousin and me there. My cousin, uncle, and aunt were visiting my house. During the chat, my father asked me to take a photo with my grandparents, cousins, and grandson. After knowing where I was sitting, I quickly found a reason to let my father go first. Go up to the fourth floor with me.

When we got to the fourth floor, my father asked me what I wanted to do. I said what I was thinking: "Why don't I sit in the middle?" "Because my cousin is the eldest of the three of you children, and you and your cousin are both grandsons of your grandparents. Of course, you have to be next to your grandparents." Dad replied. "But grandma is so old. If others see it, will they laugh at me?" "You are wrong to think this way," my father then taught me earnestly, "How could others laugh at you?" Although grandma is older, she has gone through decades of hardships for our family to be as happy as she is today. As the younger generation, we should respect and love her. Without grandma, there would be no dad; without dad, there would be no you! "It suddenly dawned on me that I realized the mistake I had just made. If others saw me sitting next to my grandma in the photo, not only would they not make fun of me, but they would think that I am a good child who respects my elders and is caring!

I happily returned to the living room on the third floor, walked briskly to where I was sitting for the photo, took a big apple with respect, and handed it to grandma. Grandma smiled slightly and handed the apple back to me. She said kindly: "Grandma is old and her teeth are useless. Grandma understands my dear grandson's wishes. It's better for you to eat!" "At this time my father shouted: "Everyone, look at me coming here! "I held the apple left by my grandma in my hand and stared at the camera. There was a "click" sound, and this beautiful moment stayed in the camera forever. After posting the photo, I took it to plastic , collected in the photo album.

A photo contains such a story; a photo makes my mind fly back to ten years ago; a photo gives me an education of love. It is such an ordinary and extraordinary photo that taught me to learn to respect and love our elders. Only in this way will our lives be better, our families happier, and our society more harmonious. .

Part 2: Stories in Photos

Time is like water, passing by quietly day and night. I have grown from a little girl who loves to cry. A little girl who knows how to store her tears in a notepad.

Putting down the long-dusted photo album, my thoughts began to roll.

I caressed each photo, and each photo told a story about me and my childhood. My eyes suddenly stopped on a photo with a yellowish edge, and I laughed happily.

In this photo. There is a little girl wearing a dress and braids, she is crying to the sky, this is me; there is also a big boy who is eating a lollipop and smiling evilly, that is my brother.

I remember it was autumn, and my mother bought me a big and beautiful lollipop from the store. My brother also wanted to eat it, but I wouldn't give it to him, so he got into trouble with me.

He lied to me and said that I could find a bigger and more beautiful lollipop in my mother’s car basket, and whoever got it would belong to whom. I want it so much that I have to go and get it. I was very short at that time and couldn't reach the basket, so I asked my brother to hold the lollipop for me while I moved the stool to dig through my mother's basket.

I didn’t find the lollipop in the car basket. I was about to ask my brother, but when I looked back, he was holding my lollipop and chewing it! I thought he wanted it, but he never gave it to me, so I sat on the ground and cried. I happened to be photographed by my aunt who had just bought a camera.

Seven or eight years have passed since this happened, now think about it. I was really cute at that time. This is the story of what happened in my photos.

Part 3: Stories in Photos

Today, I took out my favorite photo again. Do you know what my favorite photo is? It’s the preschool group photo I took with my kindergartners, because I’m about to leave kindergarten and become a real primary school student.

Every morning, our parents and grandparents send us to kindergarten, where we study, eat and take naps together. When I think about leaving kindergarten and leaving my classmates soon, I feel both happy and reluctant to leave, because we have lived together for so long and don’t want to separate. Seeing the 46 familiar faces in the photo, I thought, 20 years later, some of us will go to college and some will join the workforce. I wonder where we will be in another 40 years? Ah, I know, we will definitely become full of white hair, like grandpa and grandma.

I must treasure this photo and let it accompany me until I grow old.

Part 4: Stories in Photos

Twelve years and hundreds of photos, the photos have witnessed my growth.

Open the photo album and look at it page by page. The photos of my childhood are so cute. I often look at the photo and exclaim: "I'm actually so old!"

Looking at this photo, I'm smiling all over my face, with my hands open and my legs crossed, what am I doing? By the way, that day, a guest came to my house, and I was excitedly introducing my own room!

Every time I talk about my room, I feel proud. See that big bed? The set of furniture in the room was bought with my own savings. I remember my grandpa said he would buy it for me, but I insisted on buying it myself. My mother was worried and said, "I'm afraid you don't have enough money. Otherwise, buy something cheaper!" "No, just buy it!" Later I decided to borrow money from my mother and bought furniture, but my mother always said no. Returned. As for me, I must pay it back, and I wrote down the IOU seriously and prepared to pay it in installments.

For me who rarely does housework, I am determined to be more diligent this time. If I do a housework, my mother will remove a little "arrears"...

In the morning, I I got up and started preparing breakfast. Although I often made mistakes at the beginning: the custard buns were not steamed, and the jam was too much... Slowly, I became more comfortable preparing breakfast. In the evening, I went to the balcony: put away the clothes, folded them, and put them in. Wardrobe...

Just like that, a few months passed, and my mother felt sorry for herself, so she said: "Forget it, don't do it, don't return it!" But I still insisted on my original decision and was still happy. Doing housework. When my mother told me that the "debt" had been paid off, I jumped for joy.

At that time, I really realized the joy of reaping rewards after hard work...

I remember that I was in fifth grade when I was buying furniture, and this photo was taken in sixth grade, and now I am in seventh grade. After all this time, I'm still proud of it. However, now that I think about it, I borrowed a lot of money from my mother to buy furniture. The labor fee was five yuan for each labor. I paid it off in such a short time. It must be my mother who was helping me. Therefore, I do more housework when I have time now. Although I want to help my mother, in my heart, this reason is also the main reason!

Every time I see this photo, I will run to the room, take a few glances, and then I can’t help but smile!

A photo, a story, this is the story of me saving money to buy furniture; a photo, a harvest, this is an unforgettable harvest in my life!

Ⅶ The essays titled "Story of Photos" each have subtitles

Memories of Photos

1180 words When I was sorting out my clothes by chance, I accidentally put them A pile of dusty books placed in the corner fell to the ground. I hurriedly knelt down to sort them out. A piece of paper fell in front of me. I couldn't help but wonder: What is this? Pick it up and look, oh, it's not paper, it's a photo. I gently wiped off the dust on it and looked at it again, but I was stunned - in the photo, an old woman was sitting on a small stool in front of her house, holding an elegant little girl in one hand, and holding a little girl in the other. The boy had a happy smile on his face... His thoughts drifted to a few years ago, and the blurred pictures in his memory gradually became clearer. A few clouds in the evening were painted red, like transparent and soft silk floating leisurely in the air. The fiery red but not dazzling sunset hung on the west mountain, filling the air with a warm smell. After dinner, I took my grandma to the small stool in front of the house and sat down. I climbed onto her lap and sat face to face. I put my hands around her neck and told her stories to me. Whenever this happens, grandma will always smile sweetly, caress my head gently and say: "Okay, okay, good granddaughter, grandma will tell you a story. Once upon a time, on the other side of the mountain..." Grandma began As the story was being told, I tilted my head, raised my face, and listened very quietly, listening with great interest. The sun gave out its last soft rays, stretched out, and sank down the mountain, leaving only the red clouds floating in the sky. When I was a child, my grandma was a fairy tale book with endless stories in it. Although they were not bizarre and vivid, I couldn't put them down. Occasionally, grandma would sing to my brother and me. We both listened intently, thinking it was the most beautiful singing in the world. I watched my grandma's mouth open and close with great interest, but I couldn't help but imitate it myself. After all, I was still young and couldn't speak clearly. I sang songs that made my parents laugh so hard that I stared at them with big, incomprehensible eyes. Joy is swelling in the air at home. Later, grandma got sick, and her father and uncle took her to a big city to see a doctor. After a while, she probably recovered and came back. After returning, grandma lost her previous vitality, her usually rosy face became pale, and she didn't like to smile. She can no longer tell me stories or sing songs. At the same time, my mother doesn’t always let me pester my grandma to do this or that. She even touches my head and says softly, "Hey, grandma is sick and doesn’t feel well. Go by yourself." Let's play." I nodded in understanding and agreed. "Yun, wake up!" Mom's anxious voice sounded. "Huh?" I woke up rubbing my eyes and glanced at the clock. It was only 4 o'clock in the morning. What's wrong? I was about to ask, but was frightened by my mother's anxious look. She hurriedly helped me put on some clothes and carried me out of the house. The night is still very deep, there are only a few scattered stars in the sky, crickets are chirping tirelessly and urgently, and a few dogs bark occasionally. My mother is carrying me on her back and walking on the path with a running pace. The bumps on my back are uncomfortable but I didn't dare to say a word... Finally, my mother's footsteps stopped. I looked up and saw that it was my grandma's house. I couldn't figure it out. However, my mother started to take steps again, but her steps were gentle. She entered the door gently. Dad , uncle is already inside.

My mother put me down with a puzzled look on her face, with tears in her eyes, "Grandma, grandma, she passed away..." I then noticed that grandma was lying on the bed, lying very quietly, motionless... Brother, aunt When this time came, I started crying first, crying loudly, crying with all my strength, and then the crying spread throughout the room... Later, because of my father's work, I moved. Just moved away and started a busy new life, and naturally those sad memories were forgotten in the small town. The person in the photo was still smiling. I touched the bright smiling face and carefully put the photo into the album...

Ⅷ How to start a composition about the story in the photo

There is a photo saved in an exquisite photo frame at my home. Although this photo has always been on the table, every time I see it, it always attracts my attention and makes my thoughts swirl.

Ⅸ How to write the beginning of the story in the photo for fifth grade primary school students

The story in the photo

A photo records a story; a photo tells an experience; A photo evokes a memory; a photo is full of emotions. It is such a small but profound photo, an ordinary yet unusual photo, so worthy of my collection.

My favorite photo was taken on the first day of the first lunar month in 2001 in the living room on the third floor of my new home. It is clearly visible in the photo that I am sitting on the sofa with my cousin, my cousin, my grandparents and my five grandsons. In my hand, I was holding a big apple picked from the plate on the table in front of me. Every time I pull this photo out of my album, the story behind it is still fresh in my mind.

It was the first day of the first lunar month when I was two years old. My grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts came to my house as guests. While chatting, my father asked me to take a photo with my grandparents, cousins, grandparents, and grandchildren. After knowing where I was sitting, I hurriedly found a reason to ask my father to go to the fourth floor with me first.

When I got to the fourth floor, my father asked me what I wanted to do. I spoke out what was in my heart: "Why don't I sit in the middle?" "Because my cousin is the eldest among you three children, and you and your cousin are both grandsons of your grandparents, so of course you have to sit next to your grandparents." Dad replied road. "But grandma is so old. If others see it, will she laugh at me?" "You are wrong to think so," my father then taught me earnestly, "How can others laugh at you? Although grandma is old, But she has gone through decades of hardships for our family to be happy today. As the younger generation, we should respect and love her. Without grandma, there would be no dad, and without dad, there would be no you! "I suddenly realized and realized the mistake I had just made. If others see me sitting next to my grandma in the photo, not only will they not make fun of me, but they will think that I am a good child who respects his elders and is caring!

I happily returned to the living room on the third floor, walked briskly to where I was sitting for the photo, took a big apple with respect, and handed it to grandma. Grandma smiled slightly, handed the apple back to me, and said kindly: "Grandma is old and her teeth are no longer useful. Grandma understands the idea of ??a good grandson. It's better for you to eat it!" At this time, Dad shouted: "Look at me, everyone." Come here!" I held the apple left by my grandma in my hand and stared at the camera. There was only a "click" sound, and this beautiful moment remained in the camera forever. After posting the photos, I took them, had them molded, and kept them in a photo album.

A photo contains such a story; a photo makes my mind fly back to ten years ago; a photo gives me an education of love. It is such an ordinary yet extraordinary photo that taught me how to respect and love our elders. Only in this way will our lives become better, our families happier, and our society more harmonious.