I am a fish. I have a dream. I hope I can live a stable life. As long as I live, everything will be fine. This may be vulgar, but no one knows how the heart died after a disaster after a killing that you can't refute, so that you can have such a dream. On that dark afternoon, a clear pond broke into a group of people. Almost all of us were saved.
We jump, jump wildly, want to escape, want to break free, but we are just fish. This crowded bag made me faint from lack of oxygen. When I woke up, the car carrying us had reached the market. With a loud cry, people looked at us coldly and discussed the price. At this moment, a voice sounded, "Mom, let's take it home!" " "I swam, looking for the owner of the voice. It turned out to be a girl. She put me in a quite comfortable glass jar. She is so stupid that she always talks to me as if I don't know anything. I just can't speak human language. In recent years, I have gradually understood what they said. I don't like her because she is the one who killed my relatives and is at the top of the food chain.
However, I can at least survive here, I thought with a wry smile. "Well, fish, what's the matter with you? You always spit bubbles. Are you sick? " "Fish, are you hungry?" Fish, are you homesick? ""... "Looking at her clear eyes and listening to the girl's chanting is like a pond deep in memory, the inner door seems to be pushed open. I haven't found someone to talk to for a long time, so I watched her start talking to herself involuntarily, but everything she said turned into bubbling bubbles. Suddenly she said, "Fish, your memory is only 7 seconds, so you will never remember me? Her star-like eyes were covered with fog. I don't know what it is, but she looks sad. I really want to tell her that we will have something engraved in our hearts that we will never forget for seven seconds, such as killing people. The girl saw the bubbles I spit out.
She was very surprised and said, "Are you telling me that you won't forget me?" She's a little excited. "Ahem, ahem," she suddenly coughed quickly. Fear of killing has returned. I panicked. Suddenly, I used to be a coward and I was afraid of death, both of which disappeared. Now, I suddenly have an impulse to save the girl in my mind, even if I am just a fish. I jumped again and again, and finally, I jumped out of the fish tank. When I breathe fresh air, I close my eyes and wait for it to land. But no, a pair of warm hands quickly grabbed me and put me into the water. She was angry and accused me of being naughty, but she didn't know. I was really worried about her at that moment.
I suddenly realized that I seem to have changed, my original intention has returned, and I am determined to occupy the whole mind bit by bit. The next day, I was awakened by bright lights. She came up to me and picked me up. "Fish, can I take you home?" I stared at her deeply, and her eyes reassured me. "Well," I waved my finger gently, indicating that she agreed to take me to a clear stream and slowly put me into the water. "Goodbye" She looked at me reluctantly. I suddenly wanted to cry, but I am a fish, and I have no tears. She waved and I got into the water, quietly watching her car go away. At that moment, my resentment dissipated in the air. Humans are not as ugly as I thought. I am a fish. I have a dream. Live a full life, be happy, not afraid of difficulties, and be optimistic to accompany and protect the most important things in life. Even if I am a fish. ...
The girl in winter left silently, and the girl in spring who was beautifully dressed was very happy. She came to us singing songs. Listen, the sound of flowing water, isn't this the beautiful singing voice of Miss Chun? Grass also felt the warm breath of spring girl, rushed out of the ground and looked around curiously. The grass gently awakened the little ant again, "wake up!" " Miss Chun is here! "
The little ant stretched himself and said happily, "Spring has come, and I can play with my friends again!" " "Spring girl slender fingers brushed willow branches, willow branches quietly pulled down the green branches.
Spring girl's beautiful skirt swept the wheat field, and the wheat field immediately changed into green clothes and danced happily. Ah, here comes Miss Chun. She has made the earth more beautiful. "Sasha Vujacic, Sasha Vujacic" Spring rain quietly arrival everything. She gently moistened the children's soft faces. She always likes to think of herself as a magician and change herself in every life.
In the heart of the grass, the continuous spring rain is like a kind mother, nourishing it and caring for it; In the hearts of children who love singing, the thin spring rain is like a beautiful and flawless music score, "tick, tick";
In the eyes of adults who are rushing home, the dense spring rain is like a road blocking the way; In the heart of willow, the sweet spring rain is like a small kettle, which helps it grow, makes it drink enough water, pulls out branches and grows green leaves; But in everyone's mind, spring rain is like an air purifier, which dispels the smog and makes the air fresh.
Careful observation shows that the spring rain is sometimes dense, sometimes thin, sometimes slow and sometimes urgent. When the density is high, there seems to be no gap between raindrops. When it's sparse, it seems that I can't catch it. Why slow down? Raindrops seem to fall one by one. What do you mean by "scratching"? It seems that the pot exploded on the ground, and the sound of landing was very urgent, showing ripples on the river, like the wrinkles of 100-year-old grandmother. As soon as it fell into the water, it immediately popped out of the waterline.
Spring rain is ever-changing, and everyone's life is different. Have you noticed?
Outside my humble abode, there are green hills. Above the green hills, there are forests and skies. The forest is a green wave and the sky is a blue ocean. One day at the back of the world, the highest corner curled up into a light cloud and suddenly seemed to get together. If you take a break, it will be the vastness of Qing Dynasty. At two o'clock and one line, there is little leisure time. The microwave of continuous mountains, the mirror of endless sky, let birds sing, let insects walk, let the wind blow my eyes. And I have been in it for twenty years and four months to greet the dawn and watch the sunset. That is 24 months; The warm spring breeze has come and gone.
The mountains are endless, with trees on them, dense and dense. Even in the hot noon, between the layers of green covers, there are still wisps of cool and sweet, like shaking a gentle paper fan, not a mountain, but a fairy. The mountain is connected with the sky, and it is hard to say whether the mountain teases the sky or the sky seduces the mountain. I saw the sky stroking behind the slightly raised mountain, and the mountain turned the zenith into an arc canopy. You can't catch the vast blue sky. After all, the universe is infinitely extended. At the most quaint dusk, at the foot of the mountain, a wonderful song threw away all kinds of silence and flew leisurely to the sky. The whole sky shone with dazzling light, just to welcome a group of long-lost notes. On rainy or foggy days, green trees are wet into thousands of cups of tea, and countless strands of tea smell fragrant. On the moonless night, all the noise has dissipated, and the rolling and comfortable clouds have disappeared, leaving only a sigh and a long sigh. The sad song makes me feel sorry. Sometimes the sparse stars twinkle, piercing the ink-like night sky, scattered on it sporadically, getting brighter and brighter, turning into several sparkling pearls.
I see mountains, mountains see the sky, I live by mountains, and mountains are like the world. My every move, every smile, every word and deed are watched and listened by the mountain behind me. I waved to Dashan, and Dashan smiled back. In fact, the mountain didn't laugh, the tree smiled, and the cloud wild flowers also smiled. Shan is an elegant woman. She won't show her teeth easily. People lean on the window porch, the mountain stands in front of them, and the eyebrows are slightly stirred, and the two are relatively silent. In the morning, there was a bright color on her head, and at dusk, I came back tired. Shanshan, wait for me in the halo. That day, it was darker than the day, but brighter than the night. At this time, the mountain said nothing, and I was silent. Only the wind flows through the leaves, blowing the loneliness of the mountain a little melodious. The wind stopped, the sun set, the night poured down violently, the dancers in the flowers returned, and the crickets in the grass played the piano again. As for Wangbi Lake on the side of the mountain, it is like a woman's green eyes, and there is a special flavor between the green waters. Hu er is a child who loves painting and likes to dance with ink and wash. Whether it is white clouds, blue sky or a long bird, she also wants to draw an outline. Unexpectedly, a stone fell and the painting was torn by naughty ripples.
Looking from my balcony, the nearby mountains are soft green and stand in the southeast, witnessing the arrival of spring breeze. Far away, the northwest sky is vaguely covered, which makes winter half a month late. After a short pause, the cold wind will be much milder. With the cicada singing, the glow of the summer sun becomes sad and gradually condenses into stars. This is a beautiful and pleasant picture, which is the deep affection of summer. Under the banyan tree, I sat down to greet the arrival of dusk, which came earlier than the day before. I felt the heat pressing and the cicadas were broken. Suddenly, the coolness continued, and the rustling west wind brushed my forehead. Autumn flew down from me as early as possible. That process is a subtle gradual change, although it is impossible to observe it in a day. By the time the peaches and chrysanthemums bloom, the early autumn has become the late autumn. Shan Ye at this time is quiet and desolate, which makes people feel a little sour. Especially around here, I usually jump up and down with a smile. At this time, although it is not as desolate as the north, my sideburns are slightly yellow, like a little girl, waiting for your return from the window alone. Obviously, there is a faint sadness.
The rain fell on the fallen leaves of the empty mountain. As soon as the misty rain comes, the mountains are a little misty. On rainy days, the mountains turn into green ink. Under the cover of rain, it is thick first, then bleak, sometimes appearing in mid-air and sometimes disappearing in front of us. One morning, when you look around, the figure of continuous mountains looms in the translucent silk, and occasionally there is fog to reveal a gap. Withered fallen flowers danced in the messy steps, and the shadow of the school loomed in the clouds. I held an umbrella alone and raised my glass. It was a bottle of sake. The sound of cars on the road floated from the rain and fog and from the distant horizon. I walked further, my hands were covered with fog, and the rain soaked my skirt. All passers-by and I have become ships, supporting all kinds of covered ships. Looking back, the green shadow of the mountain was covered with a layer of light smoke and reluctantly came to bid farewell.
On the moonlit night, everything that bothers people is swept away, and the moon is full of beauty, and I fall asleep. Moonlight is drinkable, like windless water, slowly flowing into my heart. Sometimes the breeze blows, with jasmine fragrance, and slowly walks in from the window; In front of him, Thornton became a reciter, unable to understand the bright feeling of the moon and the night. Fog, idle clouds, and I became a fallen leaf, drunk and swaying, bathed in the gentle fragrance of moonlight.
In a small thatched cottage on the hillside. On the bed lay the bodies of a woman and a boy who was almost six years old.
The boy was thinking about his present, but he came back and saw his mother's body. When the boy was 3 years old, his father left with two older brothers and younger brothers. This kid's name is Shi.
On Shi's sixth birthday, his fighting spell woke up, which is a rare catamaran fighting spell. They are the robots of the Machine Department and the * * of the Dragon Department. Because of hatred, Shi practiced very hard. 10, he raised his mana to 10, and changed from a warlock to a quasi-mage. -Mana 1 to 10 is a warlock; Ten to twenty are mages; Levels 20 to 30 are exorcists; Thirty to forty are wizards; Forty to fifty are magicians; Grade 50 to 60 are magic teachers; Levels 60 to 70 are demons; Seventy to eighty is the magic emperor; Eighty to ninety grades are magical saints; 90 to 94 are ordinary ghosts, and 95 to 98 are advanced ghosts; Ninety-nine super ghosts, one hundred gods.
So Shi went to ask for the crystal. But who knows, I accidentally met a very rare little Z. And use it as that crystal of the first method. Later, when the stone mana was upgraded to 15, it had the first skill: variation. Since then, Shi has been living in the forest of Warcraft, until one day, Shi's mana level reached level 20, and he had a second skill: concealment. He was admitted to the most famous college of ghosts and gods, and Z became X, because everyone who can enter the college of ghosts and gods is a genius. So there will be a guide (teacher) to discourage. So, as soon as Shi came to the institute of ghosts and demons, a guide named Oriental Dragon came over. With the strength of the Oriental Dragon Master, he quickly solved an exorcist who had always been conceited. The Oriental Dragon has discovered history. A female classmate prayed silently, while a male classmate cursed him in the dark. When the Oriental Dragon tried to get rid of Shi with his wrath of the proud dragon, Shi's second fighting spell suddenly broke out and suppressed the Oriental Dragon. Oriental dragon can feel that this is the blood of Tyrannosaurus rex completely suppressing its wings. Finally, a green guide of the magic emperor's power came to relieve the plight of the Oriental Dragon.
From then on, no one will look down on this child who is only ten years old.
In autumn, leaves begin to turn yellow, and maple leaves sway in the wind, as if with golden fruit fragrance.
The air changed, and the osmanthus trees smelled of sunset.
I used to walk in the Woods. The jungle with mountains and water is bathed in the sun. A leaf on the branch is about to fall, so I raise my hands to welcome it. A little cinnabar faintly revealed among the leaves is particularly dazzling. Birds flew by, mercilessly scattering only a few dead leaves on the dead tree and falling into the soil. The mountain stream is like a soft ribbon, lightly tied to the waist of the mountain.
Everything is life, but it will eventually turn to dust.
I used to walk by the lake. The blue sky and the mountains have become wonderful craftsmen, coloring the banks of the lake. The fish in the water swam from one side of the lake to the other, leaving only layers of ripples gently. The leaves are spinning around inside, turning and turning, turning out layers of sadness. The kingfisher "squeaked", which scared the fish to dodge, and hastily ended the topic just now. Egrets sometimes fly to the shore and stand quietly, just like a fisherman in hemp fiber.
Rotating leaves, like returning fish, have returned to their original starting point after many rotations.
I stopped in front of the old house. Swing in the backyard of an old house full of green leaves, listening to old songs constantly played in headphones. When I'm alone, I like to come here and watch the fallen leaves rise in the wind, turn over in the air and fall again in stop for a minute. The old trees overhead have changed a lot. The end of the branch, as well as the residual temperature of this summer, will retain the wind at this time, retain a quiet autumn, and retain an autumn blown by the wind.
Leaves fall in pieces, revealing endless thoughts.
The setting sun dyed half the sky red. Flowers on the other side nearby are whispering in this background. They seem to want to whisper the most beautiful words in their hearts through this last rosy clouds.
Autumn birds return and colorful clouds rest. As if I had just felt a trace of autumn, I was gone.
Maple leaves fall into the soil and leave in autumn. Walk gently, without taking away a cloud.
How many departures and reunions will there be this season?
My father and I have little in common. He always finds fault with me. I really don't think my father loves me.
I played with my children when I was a child. She robbed me first, didn't give it back to me, and even hit me. Naturally, I hit back. After a close game, I returned home in triumph. She burst into tears with anger. When my father heard the voice, he looked at her embarrassment, and then at my high spirits. He jumped on me, patted my ass, criticized me, and forced me to apologize to her ... I was so wronged that I couldn't help crying at once. I hate my father.
When I was in primary school, I was ecstatic to tell my father that I was the first in the exam. He just said lightly, "Well, don't be proud, make persistent efforts." Then he turned and left. I did so well in the exam that he only said "hmm"? Hum! I will do better in the next exam, depending on whether you are here or not.
In the first mid-term exam of junior high school, my math test was extremely unsatisfactory, and I only got 88 points. I am ashamed to go home and face my mother. I was scared all the way, clutching the schoolbag with the test paper, for fear that my score would be made public after I loosened it. In the sky, the dark, low-flying birds seem to laugh at my misery, and the withered weeds on the roadside seem to understand my mood, crawling quietly without a trace of movement.
When I got home, my father asked me for an examination paper as usual. I timidly handed him two test papers. In order to suppress my nervousness, I looked up at the window. It seemed to be getting darker and darker. There has always been a stone hanging in my heart. I can't be calm for a long time. I just stood quietly waiting for criticism. Dad called me to his side, and I stood there with my head down like a helpless little sheep. I wanted to wait for a storm, but my father just said calmly, "Tell me the reason why you did something wrong." I breathed a sigh of relief and faltered: "Careless, careless, and ... not ... serious." Then close your eyes and get ready to be beaten. What I didn't expect was that my father just patted me on the shoulder. My father said to me earnestly, "you should be careful in the future, and you can't make such low-level mistakes again. You will suffer big losses." You know, all our family's high hopes are pinned on you, and you are our pride! " A few sparrows chirped for food outside the window, as if cheering for my liberation, and the sky seemed brighter.
Dad's words completely woke me up. The missing ship finally found the lighthouse. It turns out that I have been blaming my father for having such an important position in my heart for many years!
The dark clouds on my head cleared away, and a ray of sunshine shone warmly into my heart. ...
That day, I read my father. ...
I have heard the saying: "Life is like an inkstone. If you can make life colorful, there must be strange stones and inkstones in the world. " You got it?
Perhaps in our view, Guangdong inkstone is just one of the small writing tools, but have you ever thought about it? Duanyan is the first inkstone. Since the Tang Dynasty, it has been a tribute to the court, and its quality of "breathing into ink and sliding like skin" is extremely high. Guangdong inkstone is such a "rare treasure on earth". Maybe nothing can compare with it, but I compare it with my life. It turned out to be all the same, not much difference. Colorful life and wonderful Guangdong inkstone are on the same level. We may be able to find life from a small inkstone, but the possibility of failure is not great, because life and inkstone are linked together.
"Using materials to practice art" is one of the traditional techniques of Duanyan seal cutting, which can reflect the author's accomplishment and attainments in aesthetic modeling, calligraphy and painting, sculpture and even literature and art. Therefore, we must first understand the purpose and means of Duanyan seal cutting. Duanyan is not carved for carving, but purposeful processing. The key of Duan inkstone carving is the use of materials. Isn't life like this? Life does not exist for blank, but only for colorful. Life is not changed for the present, but for the future. Not many people will be willing to live quietly in their own hands, and no one will long for a blank life.
Perhaps, with the changes of the times and the development of science and technology, fewer people really study ink painting with Duanyan. With people's yearning for nature, many people have joined the ranks of collecting Duanyan. The makers of Duanyan should cherish this opportunity, strive to carefully design the things that collectors like, skillfully preserve the traditional carving craft from the shape and technology, and introduce the ideas of the new era to keep pace with the times and strive for perfection. Perhaps few people use Duanyan, but many people collect Duanyan. Compared with Duanyan, life is also a work, a work created by oneself, and will not be collected by others. I once said, "Nothing can be compared with life, and nothing can be compared with Guangdong province".
There may be different feelings at different levels, but do you see the difference between them? They are all striving for perfection and keeping pace with the times, just to make tomorrow more beautiful, and no longer let all this be limited to one color.
Of course, it is only a mystery that it is difficult to uncover whether Duanyan is finely carved. No black silence, no white ignorance, no rich colors. In that life, you chose a sculptor who can't carve to help you carve-your life-like inkstone!
Erase the color with the colored pen in your hand, wash away the small stain with the source of desire, carve the inkstone of life with the small carving tool in your hand, and describe life with the small brush in your heart.
Rotten sea water poured in from all directions.
From your feet to your neck. The overwhelming cold wrapped me tightly, and fear and helplessness climbed into my heart. Like the secret law of southern Xinjiang, greed makes me suck my conscience, and the kindness in my heart disappears little by little.
Well, it's good to die like this.
No one will remember.
But no, it's just a dream. I saw an illusory black fog standing above me, just like the fog I saw on everyone when I first came to this city. I was surprised, but I didn't care.
The next day, I wrote 9 "The sword is pale, the Millennium is frosty, and the so-called Iraqis are on the water side ..." I whispered. Looking up across the screen, I seem to see an Iraqi seaweed-like hair and her petite back, which is not true.
I got up and couldn't help but want to get rid of the shackles of this screen window and look for and explore.
April, far from the clarity of May, faded the haze of rain, but did not forget to send a rustling cold wind. This road is like an abandoned rope, winding into the distance. ...
Seeing the willows by the river, there is quite a "tapestry of thousands of strands of green silk hanging down" posture. The branches are soaked in water, and when the wind blows, they ripple. It's beautiful, with the smell of spring, and it releases the brilliance of life with everything. And you, the reed I came to visit, your life is over, your body color is so decadent, as fuzzy as the sunset, with a layer of yellow stacked with a layer of orange, and your waist is stained with a little mildew. However, why are you still standing upright, and you don't mean to kiss the lake? Don't you want to go with them? Do you want to find a new way to carve a beautiful scenery with persistence?
Looking down, I caught a glimpse of a light green star. Oh, Reid, are you born again? I think so, you must be reluctant to part with this colorful world, and then you broke out again! Reaching for a thin and small leaf, the thread on it is so special. Lines shoot from one point and converge to one point, one by one, leaving no gaps, showing a uniform and stable green color. Have you always been so different? Even in this blue sky with everything, we should have different attitudes and brand a cautious painting with calmness?
Approach carefully, for fear of ruining the scene. I see your ankles are purple. Are you reminding me that "green life has blood"? If so, I will remember, I will remember your blood from top to bottom! The evening breeze blows up a few scattered petals and falls beside the water drops in your palm, which is in harmony with your shy and hazy green. In the music, I seem to hear you singing "White Dew is Frost". I feel warm and lingering, and it seems to touch your sentimental heart. It seems that you are destined to play a unique role and write the legend of your life with your poems!
Reed-Jianji, you quietly left your footsteps on the extraordinary road, but I heard the heavy echo. Your persistence brings me stubborn courage; Your composure taught me to make steady progress; Your poems lead me to knock on the door of literature, and you use everything to make me understand that you don't need to expect sunshine to warm yourself, just wait for lightning to play the music of youth!
At this moment, I fully understand what you mean. I will follow your example and not take the usual road!