Pencils disappear one by one, which is the passage of time; White paper piles up like a mountain; That's proof of memory. I like painting since I was a child, and I like to leave my own handwriting. I also dream of becoming a painter in the future. But there is such a big gap between reality and dreams, so I haven't learned painting, and the seeds are like this, and they don't sprout any more ... But at least, I can regard it as a hobby, just because I love painting, and there is nothing wrong with painting, although I am growing up and the ocean of dreams is ebbing.
But the sky is still clear. Here, I have become a bird. I have been waiting for it and will never forget it. Winter goes and summer comes, and flowers bloom and fall. I am glad that I have a brush to accompany me through these years. I don't expect to have the magic pen that makes everything come true, because in my eyes, any pen that is drawing is magical, because something different will be born: unyielding soul, beautiful scenery, playful elves and even funny footprints ... these are my magic; This is my world!
Some people say that the world is black and white, and I say that the world is magnificent; Some people say that black and white will mix into gray. I said gray can be beautiful. In the world of painting, everything is beautiful and bizarre. No matter Van Gogh, Picasso or Leonardo da Vinci, I prefer to read my own works. After all, it was a quiet, comfortable, leisurely and quiet time, and there were no surprises in the courtyard. This is my ideal world. When you are happy, you will associate beautiful scenery with sunshine; When you are lost, you also add hope with rain; When thinking, daub your wings with knowledge; When you are sad, draw a hut to recuperate ... you can draw without thinking about anything; When painting, my heart is always rekindled with hope. Why enjoy it, why full of fantasy, because it is my hobby? No, because this is my dream! ! !
I have never forgotten my dream. Only seeds have the hope of germination. This is my dream sky, and I can soar to my heart's content. Pick up the brush and you will have strength. When you spread out the drawing paper, you will have hope. You don't care how much you pay, you only care about your own growth. Everything, just because of dreams. ...
There, there is my world, my story and my dream; There, express everything silently on paper with a pen; There, where I fly, my other sky!
The blue sky is the sky of birds, the ocean is the sky of fish, and I also have a sky of my own. My sky is made up of different sky fields. Do you want to know what they are? Don't worry, please listen to me slowly.
Home, my sky field.
Childhood memories are the laughter of running in the park with grandpa, the reverie of lying in grandma's arms listening to stories, the warmth on dad's back, and the ripples of mom's smile. Childhood home is as pure as nursery rhymes; Childhood home is as sweet as candy. As the years passed, I grew up. Home is naturally full of new memories. Growing up at home is grandpa's bent back, grandma's thick wrinkles on her forehead, dad's comfort with a certificate, and mom's exhortation before school ... growing up at home is as soothing as a stream and as fragrant as jasmine.
My friend, my sky field.
Friends are fountains in the desert; Friends are the sunshine in winter; A friend is a beacon in the dark; A friend ... a true friend should be a confidant as the ancients often said. Such true friends, like stars, do not crowd out each other but shine on each other. He is a silent yearning after leaving, an annoying person who goes through fire and water, and a competitor in learning. When I encounter difficulties, he will extend a strong hand to me; When I fall, he will help me stand up and walk side by side! "Friends have been together all their lives, but those days are gone. In short, a lifetime, a love, a glass of wine ... "This familiar melody echoed in my ears for a long time. Yes, my friend, a part of my sky.
Painting, my sky field.
Art can wash people's hearts and sublimate people's souls. In the colorful and rich colors, we learned to be mature; In the fresh and bright colors, we know how to make progress; In the color of passion, we have passion. I love my sky, which makes my spare time so wonderful.
Writing is my sky field.
In the sky field of writing, I can give full play to my writing ability and constantly hone myself. As for me, I write articles only because I want to. I want to leave my footprints in this sky. Even if you can't write a good work, you can spit out your boredom and happiness. When I have something happy, I will write it down in my inner language to make my sky more colorful and share happiness with me; When I am sad, I will write down all my troubles, and my sky will never abandon me. It will enlighten me with my sadness. It made me get out of the haze quickly. It's like a good friend of mine. No matter it's sunny or rainy, it will stay with me to shelter me from the wind and rain.
In my sky, music is my sky field; The playground is my sky field; School is my sky field; Society is my sky field; The world is my sky field. ...
Let's act quickly. Each of us has a sky of our own, where there are flowers, sunshine and everything. Finally, with the embellishment of our mood, there is all the beauty.
Another sky that can best carry my dreams is snow-white drawing paper. It is a magic pen that depicts dreams.
Pencils disappear one by one, which is the passage of time; White paper piles up like a mountain; That's proof of memory. I like painting since I was a child, and I like to leave my own handwriting. I also dream of becoming a painter in the future. But there is such a big gap between reality and dreams, so I haven't learned painting, and the seeds are like this, and they don't sprout any more ... But at least, I can regard it as a hobby, just because I love painting, and there is nothing wrong with painting, although I am growing up and the ocean of dreams is ebbing.
But the sky is still clear. Here, I have become a bird. I have been waiting for it and will never forget it. Winter goes and summer comes, and flowers bloom and fall. I am glad that I have a brush to accompany me through these years. I no longer expect to have a magic pen that can draw everything, because in my eyes, any pen that is being drawn is magical, because different things will be born: unyielding soul, beautiful scenery, playful elves, and even funny footprints ... these are my magic; This is my world!
Some people say that the world is black and white, and I say that the world is magnificent; Some people say that black and white will mix into gray. I said gray can be beautiful. In the world of painting, everything is beautiful and bizarre. No matter Van Gogh, Picasso or Leonardo da Vinci, I prefer to read my own works. After all, it was a quiet, comfortable, leisurely and quiet time, and there were no surprises in the courtyard. This is my ideal world. When you are happy, you will associate beautiful scenery with sunshine; When you are lost, you also add hope with rain; When thinking, daub your wings with knowledge; When you are sad, draw a hut to recuperate ... you can draw without thinking about anything; When painting, my heart is always rekindled with hope. Why enjoy it, why full of fantasy, because it is my hobby? No, because this is my dream! ! !
I have never forgotten my dream. Only seeds have the hope of germination. This is my dream sky, and I can soar to my heart's content. Pick up the brush and you will have strength. When you spread out the drawing paper, you will have hope. You don't care how much you pay, you only care about your own growth. Everything, just because of dreams. ...
There, there is my world, my story and my dream; There, express everything silently on paper with a pen; There, where I fly, my other sky!
Note: I'm Zhu Yiqing.