I am a tree perched among cicadas. I have no luxuriant branches and leaves, no thick trunk, only leaves as sparse as old people's hair and a thin body. I envy my friends' "branches and leaves" and their charm. I am the humblest tree among thousands of trees. I am sad and disappointed, but I can only bear it silently, trying to change myself from "Cinderella" to "Cinderella", expecting and waiting for the moment when the ugly duckling becomes a white swan-
Perhaps influenced by comics, I became interested in painting. I began to pick up the brush, thinking hard and racking my brains, trying to draw a picture on white paper with that unskilled painting skill-
Childhood dream, when I was a child, I had a big dream and began to add bricks and tiles. Every tile is red, like a red cloud on the horizon, like a red koi fish in the river, bearing my painter's dream. Since then, my life has undergone earth-shaking changes-
I couldn't sit still, running around like a maple leaf falling in the wind. I began to sit at the table, calm as water, holding my cheeks and sipping my lips, allowing the sunset to rush from one end to the other, and either side to play in the sunset. My patience is getting bigger and bigger, as if I were in nature, calm and deep.
With the growth of painting skills, I received a lot of praise. Gradually, I began to be arrogant, began to show off, and became conceited, but I didn't know there were people outside. Finally, one day, my mother saw me laughing at others for the second time and looked down on her face. She looked so complicated that I interrupted her several times. I seem to see the surge of her heart, and the calm water has stirred up a splash because of my pride. Then, with the passage of time, huge waves rolled up and a turbulent sea breeze blew.
When I got home at night, my mother kept the huge waves in her heart. After dinner, my mother called me to the bedroom and dug out my old picture book from the drawer.
"You used to like painting ... never be fooled by external things ... but now ..."
When I look into my eyes, the world seems as quiet as my heartbeat-that kind of eyes, which I still don't want to recall, are deeply and deeply imprinted in my heart with the wind and rain that day.
Childhood dreams, red inheritance. The afterglow dyed the horizon red, fiery red, much like maple leaves. I believe my dream will be passed down forever with the dazzling China Red.
Graduation season is coming quietly. Sunlight weaves handkerchiefs and comes to the world. As if the angel's call attracted cicadas to sing everywhere. Inadvertently, summer has become the world of cicadas.