A 300-word essay on lighting, using the rhetorical technique of back and forth

The area where my home is located has never lacked light. Standing on the balcony, you can see the colorful, ever-changing, high-rise neon lights on the city's most prosperous commercial street and the row of street lights on the overpass like a flock of wild geese. There are even lights of different colors coming from the windows of tall buildings. These lights shine brightly, reflecting the phantom of the city.

Therefore, people who live in our area like to stand on the balcony when there is a power outage because it is very bright.

But maybe the surroundings are too bright and our building is very dim. There is no corridor light, so walking up and down the stairs at night is very difficult without a flashlight. The only glimmer of light that comes from nowhere will be blocked by his own torso.

My father and I are both careless people and never remember to bring a flashlight when we go out at night. The high and long steps were like a minefield hiding endless dangers. I took every step carefully. I have always been very timid, so I would hold my hands on the wall and take one step after another cautiously, for fear of accidentally twisting my foot or rolling downstairs. Dad said that I have been afraid of death since I was a child.

Dad walked behind me and always took out his lighter at the right time. "Crack" a few times, a cluster of small flames were fired, and the corridor suddenly lit up. When I turned around and smiled at my father, I could see the cluster of small flames jumping and jumping, with an orange-red outer covering. The circle is bright blue, a very warm color. Sometimes the small flames were blown by the breeze and swayed to one side, as if they were about to be blown out, but they did not go out. The flame seemed too small and stumbled to the bottom floor, but it always illuminated the ground beneath my feet. It looked extremely bright in the darkness, and this small piece of light was like giving timely help.

When we walked to the street and fell into the lights of various colors, the flames were extinguished consciously - it was unnecessary, or was it embarrassing?

The streets are filled with colorful lights and shadows: neon lights that change from bright to dark; huge bright beams of light hitting the walls of restaurants. The fish-like flow of people passed by under the neon lights and light beams, reflecting exaggerated and weird colors all over their bodies.

The traffic flow like a rain of arrows flew past under the geese-like street lights, and then suddenly stopped. The lights at the intersection alternately change into the monotonous three colors of red, yellow and green.

Really gorgeous. But in the winter when the sun sets earlier and earlier, these dazzling lights have no body, and the lights are cold light.

I came back facing the light, but as soon as I entered the wall, darkness, the darkness that frightened me, rushed over me. Although I know there is a large area of ??colorful lights not far behind me, but they cannot shine here. We can only see them from the balcony. Those lights are snobbish.

So every winter evening, my father would wait for me to come back downstairs. I told him I would arrive around a quarter past six, but I always felt like he had been standing there for a long time. He was smoking, and the green smoke he exhaled slowly rose up under the old-fashioned yellow street lamp, and changed into wonderful shapes, lingering around his head. When he saw me from a distance, he turned to The cigarette butt was thrown to the ground and stamped out. The blue-gray smoke is still lingering, and I don't know how long it will last, but it is leaning towards the yellow street light.

Dad still forgot to bring a flashlight, maybe he didn’t bother to bring it because he had a lighter. At this moment, he took out the lighter again, and used his thumb to rotate the small wheel on the lighter. Then it suddenly lit up with a "click" sound, and the flame jumped out of the small hole, shaking slightly, and very Trying hard not to burn out. Orange red and surrounded by a circle of blue flames illuminated the steps under my father's feet and reflected on our faces. My father put his arms around my shoulders, making me feel grounded and warm.

"This is the benefit of smoking," Dad said with a smile.

This is just a joke, but I can't deny that I am used to the sound of "chacha" in the dark and a small cluster of lovely and warm firelight illuminating me. Bright.

Once, I have a good memory and went out at night with a flashlight. The strange round light beam and the awkward brightness made me very uncomfortable. I would rather go up and down the stairs with my father in the light of a small fire, and have a sense of dependence on each other, which no amount of gorgeous lights can compare to.

I once secretly thought that the first money I earned in my life would be to buy the best cigarettes and the best lighter for my father.

At that time, the firelight from the lighter became the brightest and most beautiful light.