What is the most impressive plot in childhood? !

When the past is piled up into ore, it seems so indifferent to say or not to say. Life is like a never-ending wheel, rolling out silence.

It's the imprint of gold.

The ripe fruit in front of the window attracted sallow and dark sparrows, and the chirping crow led me to escape from the dream a dream-like world. Watching them snatch

the delicious food from my daughter's mouth, I felt faint warmth in my heart. They may have a closer relationship with trees. When I pick fruits without any

feelings, have I ever taken into account the feelings of trees? When the birds come, apart from saying thank you, there must be a warmer conversation, which is a feeling of life? It is not clear whether it is ordinary family chores. Anyway, they are talking, it must be like this. I feel this from the swaying branches and leaves. This may be my conjecture about

nature as a self-righteous person, which is undoubtedly the most stupid. Can you speculate about nature? People's thinking is the most terrible, but my association

has no ugly purpose, and it can't slander and hurt trees and birds, but it's just a good wish. I hope the tree won't forget

that it hates birds for eating its fruit. My guess is whether it is a gentleman's belly with a mean heart. It is really unknown.

Stupid people are always smart enough to speculate on many things that don't exist. I

can't find a better reason to explain their behavior except to prove that there is nothing in the world and much ado about nothing. A person becomes narrow-minded because of the filth of his mind, which will undoubtedly

cause fatal harm to others, and he will talk about it without scruple, trying to dress himself up as a victim for no reason

. These abnormal actions have no more practical significance than speeding up the quick freezing of my cold heart.

If we look at the world coldly, it is not difficult to find that people usually love to go beyond the level of stupidity, even though they create a lot of

rules and regulations such as "law" afterwards, and then build some cage-shaped buildings that can't be shut up, in order to achieve the goal of just proving people's stupidity. Good people and bad people, the rich and the poor, the noble and the lowly, and even the white and the black are all divided into different categories by human beings using "wisdom". In the admiring eyes of the latter, the former can eat the food produced by the latter in the scorching sun and cold wind, wear the clothes sewn by the latter in the day and night, live in the house built by the latter with tears and blood, and then look at them with contemptuous eyes. This is what people, who are advanced animals, do that is not advanced. One of them, the "best" Nu

, invents cutting-edge weapons and considers how to kill the most similar animals with the least cost. There is no animal in nature that is better at killing than human beings. The bright red blood is flowing all the time. This liquid that gives human vitality rushes out of the skin

capsule that wraps it, leaving only a brown trace that is slightly lost. If this masterpiece is seen by the author, it will also bring about five

dirty and six internal organs. This is the only embodiment of conscience, or it is still unknown whether God will punish it. The dead died somehow

. The lucky winner can carve a name given by others' parents on a stone, and put a wreath on it by a happy child who was liberated from the classroom for many years. It's hard to say how long this habit can last. After

weathering, the stone can't withstand the cycle of years and the end of a pile of dust. Therefore, I always

think that the idea of "flying geese and keeping sound" pursued by people is ridiculous. The migration of geese is just a helpless

way of life in nature. They don't have smart brains, and they can make air conditioners that are warm in winter and cool in summer. They can only travel long distances from one environment to another

, but it is in this flight of generations that their underdeveloped brains sum up a great

truth-unity. A lonely wild goose, it is difficult to have room for survival. They realize this, so they help each other in teams and taste the happiness of care. Their cries when they pass through this sky may be an encouragement to their tired companions, or

a curse to human beings for destroying nature. These are forced by self-righteous people and their own thinking, and they are inexplicably crowned with the sound of "leaving

"

Don't try to leave a "reputation" in nature. It's unrealistic hypocrisy. Naturally, it has its own rules.

What should be said will naturally happen. All human factors can't play a decisive role after all. People will cry out "I'm so stupid" against their will when they are frustrated and in their own subjective judgment, believing that they are surrounded by deception. It is precisely at this time that it is often

the true meaning of "he's so stupid", and it is as difficult for him to know this as to prove a person's innocence.

The ancients, especially women in ancient times, often proved their innocence by death. Tragedy after tragedy was staged. Dou E under Guan Hanqing's pen

was able to make the snow fall in the heat and summer, make the gods cry, and make blood spill three feet to prove themselves. However, people in the present

generation do not have this ability, but only give up the life given by their parents to prove their innocence. Without trust, there is no understanding, there is no understanding of where to talk about love, and without love, everything is unnecessary. Is there a better way to face these than to leave everything to time? Let it go, like leaves in water, the fate of wandering is much stronger than hanging.

Many times, when you can't grasp the boat of fate in the storm, giving up is really the best way. There is no

method to calculate gain and loss, and the result of cutting the gordian knot is at best to leave a big and neat cross-cutting scar. And this may be more or less used as an important sign of growth in

the final inventory of life. Even if we look back now, we have lived nearly half of our lives, and how much we can smile about. A colleague once said on more than one occasion, "

I never thought about celebrating my 6th birthday" sounds a bit pessimistic, but it is really a good way to live

. Life can last for several years, and it is most important to be happy and live. It gives people the feeling that it is selfish, but it is right to think about it carefully. I never bring my troubles to my friends, and I don't agree with those words that "

a pain is half a pain for a friend". Friends have no obligation to share the pain for you. In the dead of night,

, you make your own life and digest your own life. After dawn, everything has become yesterday, and the past will eventually become

history. The sun is new every day, no matter whether it doesn't rain.

In the intermittent autumn rain, the old clock next door didn't wake the people who were sleeping at midnight, and the train in the distance was carrying people who were sleepy but had clear eyes, running along two lines that were always parallel.

It has been raining tirelessly for three nights. I'm always listening to the rain and the music brought by the spirits from heaven.

I can't even resist the urge to get close to them when I think about their mission in this world. I want to soak them with my hair.

I want to enjoy their caress with my face pet. I want them to water my dry heart and let them save my decadent soul.

I want to walk aimlessly in the rain forever. So I curled up in the house to listen to the rain, listen to them knocking on my window lattice, open the drawer of my heart, and take a miss for you. The joy of meeting dilutes the sadness of leaving

, and you always disappear without promise. There is no denying that I like you so much.

You have no reason and no purpose. Open the curtain, through the eyes of the night, I saw a silent story and understood a story about heaven and earth. You are the messenger of heaven and earth, you are the maintenance of wind and clouds, heaven and earth have the sun and moon because of you, clouds have the thunder and lightning because of you, and my world has the brilliance because of you. My heart, jumping so happily just to listen to the autumn rain at midnight *

* * * *

I always feel that my birthday was spent in the rain-soaked tung leaves, and the wet trunk looked at me anxiously, wrapped up in the wind

. Thick fallen leaves, which absorbed too much enthusiasm of autumn rain, just lay lazily. Without the

command of eyes, the feet would be careless. Occasionally, when you step into the hollow, the water under the leaves would lose no time to kiss the instep

, and your heart would tremble. You can only rely on the shaking of your shoulders to relieve the

from your feet.

On my childhood birthday, I was put on my cotton-padded jacket and trousers by my mother, and the faint scent of soap was mixed with a little damp breath. Nu

Li holds an egg yolk in his dirty hand sticking out of his sleeve, which often attracts the envious eyes of his partners. I don't know why,

I always don't like to eat this round and golden thing, and I always think it smells like a faint chicken coop. Furthermore, my arms and legs were suddenly tied up after being free for a summer. Inexplicable annoyance forced me to leave my companions and wander alone in the Woods where dead leaves were piled up. Occasionally, I found a "mushroom" that looked like a chicken leg, took it home, and my mother wrapped it in leaves, and set it on the stove fire. When the leaves were

burnt but not burnt, the meat-like fragrance spread. Now, fried, fried,

cooked and boiled mushrooms can no longer produce that delicious taste.

As the days go by, the distance from home is measured.

On my first birthday after my marriage, I turned Zheng Zhihua's voice to the maximum, and I could still hear the whistling north wind outside the window. It didn't rain that year, and the wind was like a heart-wrenching mess. The branches of the old willow tree under the window made the sound of a shepherd swinging a whip. I was lying in bed,

staring at a blank roof, and said to myself, "Happy birthday to me". At that moment, the sudden tears, like candle oil rolling down

, condensed into eternal pain in my heart. I don't know how others erase memories. A deep ravine makes it impossible for me to find happiness, and blood always oozes out, like the helpless sun in the cracks of thick clouds. In the bleak business days, in the endless cold war, tears slipped quietly with the midnight meteor for a lonely flying soul. It's the best result for a person to walk on a road without even a shadow < P >, but it's still the crossroads in his heart that he can't turn out so far.

The warmest memory is my birthday when my daughter is about to be three months old. On that rainy evening, my daughter fell asleep sweetly, and the smile on her face became my attachment. I sat alone by the fire baking diapers for her, and the faint smell of coquettish accompanied by the intermittent rain outside the window, and the sense of life was truly found. That is, from then on, I fell in love with the rain, listened to the rain and watched it grow. Thank God for caring for my loneliness and giving me this spirit, so that my loving heart can find support. I

know the feeling at that moment, which has become my eternal wealth in my life. If I taste it from time to time, I can always save myself from the rapids of the whirlpool. For example, if a boat is enough to hold your life in drowning, it will be

logical for all the contained enthusiasm to burst out. Everything else, such as scraps of paper flying in the wind, is pale, powerless and insignificant. I want to smile at everyone

, whether I am a friend or an enemy, I want to talk to everyone, whether unfamiliar or familiar. Life, like the bursting sun, exudes endless vitality, and the feeling of flying bounces in my heart. Even if I face a stone, I have enough energy to cover it up. Even if I face a string of dull numbers, I can play a beautiful note.

I don't remember a sunny day on my birthday, but I know that this day is always brilliant for my mother, even if it is raining.

When my body and mind are wantonly destroyed and my soul is tempered in the fire of hell, I dare not go home, for fear that my

tears will turn my mother's hair white. I picked up the phone, took a few deep breaths, gave myself a stiff smile, tried to prepare a

relaxed language, and dialed the familiar number. It was Dad who answered the phone. I steadied my mind and begged him for

millet in a coquettish tone, saying that other people's millet porridge had hooked up my craving. After a series of promises, my father shouted with a smile on the phone: < p In a word, I forced myself to swallow all the bitterness and put the meaning of laughter into the phone: "I'm so busy." I listed some daily work, "No, your voice is weak, something must have happened." "Hahaha" I answered my mother with a smile, but my eyes were full of tears. Hang up the phone in a hurry, even if the disguise is thirty miles away, it is such a failure. This is my mother, who understands a long telephone line. Running into the kitchen, I let

myself cry, while washing vegetables and cooking in a hurry. The two children who came back from school were amused by the old cartoon cat.

The delicious food was served on the table, washed away with water, and put on a smile to face it, because I am also a mother * * * * *

with tireless rain.

Untitled

If insomnia accumulates into wealth

Midnight represents more than loneliness

Talking with the moon and the stars

It also becomes a seemingly fashionable necessity

A language with a soul

What it loses is only the concept of time

* * * * *

A pen on the cloud platform

A mountain. If it weren't for the ringing reminder, what kind of ink painting would be faced with. Just a few holes

, gently and casually wipe the water that is looking for a way out, and the magical effect of excelling in nature is produced. Is it a natural and intentional arrangement or

an unintentional "insertion"? Everything seems so flawless and beautiful. Flying chic, free and easy, and I have no

reason to sigh. The great charm generated by speechless telling often makes me fascinated and imaginative.

Looking up at the mountain, my heart is filled with respect. Even if I climb to the top, I won't feel conquered. It gives me the feeling that it is more like a history book with a thickness of

, with wet stories seeping out and facing the mountains.