Can you find an article called "Nostalgia Stone"?

The homesick stone Zhang Shixiaofeng went to "Goose Kumar" for a holiday, and the sea was blue. Whenever I see the sea, I always feel paralyzed, especially when I see that the sea is in the center of waves and rapidly rising tides. This kind of direct vision faces the sea of Shanghai. "Only 450 nautical miles." They said. I don't know how far it is, 450 nautical miles, probably farther than the Milky Way. Every time I think of Shanghai, I always feel like Haojing or Luoyi in history, which makes people sad and sad. We stood facing the sea, recalling Chang 'an with lush willows and Jinling with lush lotus in the waves, my homesickness became strong and vague. It's a pity that every spring comes, all the mountains and rivers are delivered to thousands of thrushes in the forest. Song Tao of the Ming tomb shuttled back and forth in the waves, and the sound and color were so similar in a trance. The light green in my memory is so illusory and ethereal, but I don't know why, and I can't help but miss it with a stubborn enthusiasm. There are two or three figures wandering on the soft beach, picking colorful shells. Those dazzling little things bloom like flowers on the white beach, giving people who find them an unspeakable surprise. And I stood there, unable to adapt my sad heart to the color of a place. Suddenly, the cool waves hit my feet. I didn't expect the collision to be so thrilling. Thinking about the direction of the sea and some unknown beach in Shanghai, I have an impulse to cry. And where is the Qin court that we can lament? Where can Shen shed tears for seven days? This is an exotic beach. They call this sea the Sea of China. No other sea in the world has such a beautiful and gloomy name. When I was a child, I was so obsessed with the Aegean Sea and the splendid sunset. Now, in this helpless windy afternoon, I only have one love, the name of my own country, and the blue sea of China, which is almost sad. An China man stood on the beach in the Sea of China and looked at China. What a salty afternoon it is! Think of those days in Kinmen, the island on the other side of Mashan and the river on the other side of the wellhead of the lake. Looking at the mountains in that area, looking at the home that has made orientals proud for thousands of years, my heart is fragile and thin. At that time, I couldn't help thinking, why am I not a migratory bird? I still remember returning to Laoliang every spring when the grass grows in the south of the Yangtze River. I hate that I am not a fish, and I can cry around the sand beach and rocky shore in my hometown. The distant tide surges, and the nearby tide surges. I sat in the middle of many stones, and those gray pebbles were tortured alternately by seawater and sunshine. Those people on the island live a happy life. They have never been brilliant in history, so there is no need to be sad. They have never been proud, so there is no need to be sad. They speak Japanese so frankly, give their children Japanese names and put up other people's sun flags on the flagpoles of schools in various countries. They are carrying things and singing, so calmly walking on the asphalt paved by Americans for them. They have their happiness. We will never have that kind of happiness and despise it. All we have is overloaded homesickness, just that noble affection. The waves rushed in and gave off cruel light in the sun. Rainy days and windy days never let go of the traveler's sad thoughts. Where are we hiding? Where should we forget? The pebbles are bumping in the endless Dongting Lake, and the gray tone reminds people of the drifting frost nunnery. I picked a few, wrapped them in handkerchiefs, and my arms felt heavy. Suddenly, I inevitably thought of the Yuhuatai and the beautiful scene that shone on my whole childhood. At that time, how those colorful pebbles puzzled me. On sunny holidays, quarrymen all over the mountain will criticize every pebble. Why are those days so short? Why couldn't you foresee your own destiny at that time? In those years when we left home, there was not a pinch of earth in our suitcase, let alone the luxury of a Yuhuatai stone. Seven small gray pebbles. They must have stayed on the beach for a long time, and every collision of the waves makes them more round. They are carved by the waves of China Sea and the tides from Shanghai. They listen to the distant news day and night. When the seven pebbles turn, they make a huge sound, and there is a mysterious echo in that sound, whispering the biggest tragedy of this century. "Did you pick this?" The playmates came back from the nearby beach, showing their colorful shells. I have nothing but those seven gloomy stones. "But I love them." I walked away alone and pressed seven pebbles on my chest until I cried with pain. We had nothing in the wandering years, but now I have it. Our fates are somewhat similar. We all live on the island, staring at one direction day and night. "Homesick stone!" I said, I know this must be its name, and it will never have another name. I walked slowly back, and the sea of Goose Kumar was so blue behind me that I collapsed. I struggled to get rid of it step by step. And the sad hometown stone rang in the handkerchief, ringing with the long-lost local accent. For no reason, for no reason, I thought of Jiang Baishi again and his song "Eight Returns". It's a pity that every spring comes, all the mountains and rivers are delivered to thousands of thrushes in the forest. There is the sound of homesickness stone, and there is a long-lost local accent. Postscript: Ekuma is the northernmost beach in Okinawa, and there are many different rocks in Hengtai. Westerners set up Christian Chinese radio stations in Sri Lanka, targeting Shanghai and the vast inland areas. I visited this autumn and went to China for eighteen years. Although I am homesick, I am afraid. It was the day of lingering whispers, a long time. On 1968