Listening to the echo composition 1 in the early morning, a familiar and unfamiliar song dragged me out of my dream. ...
Once upon a time, my home was so warm. My favorite food is jiaozi wrapped by my mother; I like to wear my father buy buy's clothes. My favorite is the ballad sung by my mother; My favorite is the clay figurine made by my father ... now everything is gone.
Maybe it's my stubbornness. They always comment on their quarrels and fights for a long time. Invisibly, something called "hate" has formed. Over time, I hate them, everything about them, and the family they built.
People often say: "The higher the expectation, the greater the disappointment." I also think: "The deeper you love, the deeper you hate."
Sometimes I really wonder, are they really my parents? Living around them, I feel very tired ... every time they call, I really want to leave it alone, even if they gave birth to me and raised me, but seriously, you gave birth to me and brought me this love, so it is better not to give birth to me. ...
Friends, I can never lose them. Every time I feel sad, I just want to tell them that they always say, "Relax, it's nothing." After a long time, I also understand some things. I have grown up, even if I hate my parents, how long can I hate them? The pain has been caused, and the only thing I can do now is to make myself braver and stronger. In the end, I will take this responsibility!
A ray of sunshine, shining directly into the window on my quilt, was warm, and I tried my best to fall into my hands and gradually melted into my heart. ...
The long-lost tune brought me back to this beautiful morning, but I know that I am no longer lonely. Family, friends, they are my reliance and my life's wealth. The air is filled with faint warmth, sadness and hatred. This morning will no longer seem deserted. ...
Listening to the echo, I found myself in the echo.
Listen to Echo Composition 2 When the wind blows by me, I think the door of my hometown is probably creaking. I just sat there quietly, listening to the wind of the years.
Nine years, nine years away from home.
My hometown is located in a small town near the source of Ganjiang River. There are no tall buildings in the north, no misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, only ancient Hakka Gu Lou and endless winds. My old house is on the hill in the northwest corner of town. The old house is surrounded by mountains and waters, and the rest is the land that grandpa has cultivated all his life.
The roundest impression is the moon hidden beside the sky when I was six years old. The moonlight slowly slid down the room and covered the floor with a layer of bright silver. Whenever this happens, I like to blow my hair in front of the old house. The wind is not strong, and with a gentle blow, delicious rice spreads around the old house. The door of the old house creaked in the wind. Grandpa leaned against the wall and looked at this proud land with deep eyes, smoking a cigarette. Cigarette butts flicker in the lonely background.
In this way, I lived with him day after day, year after year, until the day of parting.
The car started slowly and took me away. He removed the hand waving in the air and quickly wiped the sweat off his face. His expression gradually solidified, subconsciously turning his head to one side and rubbing his eyes fascinated by the wind. A stream of sadness and disappointment spread in my heart, and the sun quietly shed, fixing his figure into a silhouette, which was deeply imprinted on the post station of my years.
The wind is still blowing.
Time flies, and finally the lonely figure slowly disappears in the long river of years, leaving my old house standing there alone, regardless of the wind and rain.
Later, it was going to be demolished, and my father and I rushed back to our hometown. I lingered at the door of this old house, and the polishing of the years made it lose its former style. There are weeds in front of the house. The wind is still blowing. The door of the old house creaked, but it was sad.
Later, the old house finally disappeared. For the last time, I looked at the wreckage of the old house from a distance, afraid to approach it, for fear of touching the dusty past. Dare not fiddle with those lingering years, maybe the past is the echo, and there are people and things in the past on the other side of the echo. We listen to the echo, chase the echo of the years, and recall the story that we can't go back.
In the moonlight and wind, let me listen to the echoes of the years quietly.
Listen to echo composition 3. It is a pond, endless green, surrounded by willows, and green makes me intoxicated. The scene turned and stopped, locked in the burning light.
I once stayed in an isolated country for six years, which was my cleanest and freshest years. But it is often so beautiful that I didn't write it down carefully, leaving only a few fragments of memory. I vaguely feel that I am running on a narrow road, but I don't know where to go; It seems that I have really been to that jungle, but I don't know who I will go home with in the end ... From the year I recognized things, all the memories in the countryside seem to be old movies, but many pictures were cut out in the middle, leaving only some fragments and pictures.
I don't remember who I shook hands with. In short, my hand is generous and tight. I walked with that man to the green pond. He is a man, and he told me to watch the road carefully in a firm and powerful male voice. Actually, I hold that man's hand, and I don't know how safe it is.
The pond is not big, and there are many duckweeds floating on the shore, which are glowing green and reflected on the faces of me and the man. There is no feeling of fear, but harmony and serenity. At that time, it seemed that a gust of wind blew and gently touched the water, and the green mask on our faces fluctuated accordingly. Something brushed my face, itchy and fragrant. I let go of the man's hand and smoothed the itch on my face. Ah, it's green wicker, with the fragrance of spring soil. The sun jumped from the horizon in front of us, shaking its rays, and only half of its face gave us a naughty smile. What a good one "still hides half her face behind her guitar from us". I happen to coincide with that man. Agree with each other without prior agreement. Sitting quietly on the grass by the pond, watching the sun far away and close at hand, we chatted in our memories, but we couldn't remember the content of the chat. I remember the rustle of wicker in the wind, the swish of water in the pond, and all kinds of insects jumping around on the grass, which drove the miscellaneous.
The sound of grass.
At this time, it seems that I am not me, but a passerby who has no intention of passing by. I saw an innocent girl leaning on a man's shoulder. The girl's hair was blown by the wind, messy and elegant. The man gently cut the girl's hair, but he couldn't remember her expression. His movements were very light, for fear of damaging something.
All this is locked in the afterglow of burning.
Listening to the echo composition 4 Listening to nature, we can hear the echo in the morning; Listening to history, you can hear the echo of experience; When you listen to a poem, you can hear the poet's heart.
One night in autumn, in the bamboo forest under the moonlight, he sat quietly in the bamboo forest and played the piano, and the melodious sound floated throughout the bamboo forest. There is no earthly noise, no fetters of fame and fortune, only him and his piano sound. Here he can completely relax himself, accompanied by the bright moon at night. He doesn't feel lonely, but he feels happy and quiet. He said emotionally, "It's too light for anyone to hear except my comrade-in-arms Mingyue." He used poetry to express his longing for a better life and his longing for the future. The echo comes from the bamboo forest, and the echo comes from his piano.
Listening to the echo, I heard the poet Wang Wei's love for life and infinite yearning for the future.
Quiet night, I do not know who is playing the flute, euphemistic and sad tunes, scattered in every corner of the spring city, he listened carefully, isn't this the first "Broken Willow" full of parting feelings! Now wandering outside, instantly evokes his homesickness, so he casually sings: "This nocturne has broken willows, and everyone doesn't want to go home." He expressed his thoughts about his hometown and relatives with poems. Echo comes from spring breeze, echo comes from flute.
Listening to the echo, I heard the poet Li Bai's longing for his hometown and his longing for returning to his hometown.
In the crisp autumn, on his way to the frontier fortress, he met an envoy who returned to Beijing. Suddenly, his yearning for his hometown got out of hand. He raised his head and looked east. It's a long road, and the front hill is full of water. How can you stop him from crying! However, he did not immerse himself in this sad mood too much, and said in a hurry, "I will see you soon without paper and pen, and I will use your news to report peace." He hurried on his way again. He expressed his thoughts about his hometown and relatives with poems. The echo comes from the north wind of his frontier fortress, and the echo comes from his words.
Listening to the echo, I heard the poet Cen Can's concern for his family and his infinite love for his motherland.
Listen to the echo, hear the poet's love for life from the melodious piano sound, hear the poet's yearning for his hometown from the euphemistic flute sound, and hear the poet's love for the motherland from the transmitted words!
Listen to the echo composition 5. This is a real echo, which is very close to us ... and I can smell it from a distance. It is the touch that stays at the fingertips, the smell of the tip of the nose, the humidity in the mouth, and the warmth in the chest. It is as old as a ravine tree in front of an old house and as long as smoke from a chimney. It is the sour taste of bayberry in your mouth, and it is inseparable from the noisy frogs in the cool pond.
This is an echo that will stay in my heart forever ... when I was still struggling with the rusty and inflexible faucet in the yard to let the water flow freely, I don't know when my mother had made breakfast and rode her squeaky bike to the market until the layers of mist hid her figure. The morning market was more lively than ever, with fish swinging freely in the basin, mother crying and blood on the apron. The fishy smell in the air, accompanied by the droplets when customers are trying to bargain, can really feel a kind of excitement. Managing this excitement depends on hard work. When the whole hometown was asleep, the mother's cry echoed in the morning market.
This is a clear and favorite echo of my childhood. I like to dance the happy children's voice of "little rubber ball plus strength, beautiful flower 2 1, 256, 257, 28293 1 1". I love my mother running after me in the hospital waving a washboard, but I have no choice but to blame; I like to listen to my father's improvisation and hearty laughter; I love my little yellow skin and noise.
Some things, some people, some echoes, no matter where you are. They have become your sun in winter and raindrops in the wind. A little. This is the echo of my homesickness.
Here, you can feel Tao Yuanming's carefree feelings of "picking chrysanthemums under the hedge and seeing Nanshan leisurely", and you can also sigh Bai Juyi's "What merits do I have today?" I am not a farmer's mulberry. " Yes, my hometown is the countryside.
In this rich land, they use sweat to water the future and create tomorrow. Listening to the cock crow get up and fall asleep with the moonlight, they are closer to nature in this hometown far away from glitz and noise. Black land, green mountains and green waters, insects and birds singing, daily necessities, pots and pans. Day after day, year after year. The smoke from the chimney carries the footprints left by the lifeline of life on the soil and records the hardships of labor. The whole hometown is wandering in the satisfied snoring and sleep.
Kneeling and listening, the echo is long. ...
Listen to Echo Composition 6. Gently pushed open the door left unlocked and plumes of dust fell. The spider web in the corner proves the old house. Thirty years, it turned out to be just a moment.
-inscription
Ten years ago, I spent a carefree childhood here. This place once gave me laughter, tears, loss and emotion. What remains in my memory will always be peace, warmth and gratitude. Although the previous home was not so prosperous and even a little shabby, as long as there was affection, it was also a shabby and warm nest!
After ten years, I once again walked into the place where I once lived and looked at the unchanging furnishings. It seems that I can still find my original feeling. My eyes are a little blurred. I seemed to see myself at that time, a child and a mother, and heard the songs and gentle whispers of that year.
That year, I was two years old and had not tasted sugar. Once I went to the canteen with my mother to buy washing powder. I met my neighbor, Aunt Li, on the way. She just got back from the canteen to buy sugar. When you see me, just hold it in my little hand. When I was young, I thought sugar was the most delicious thing in the world.
After a while, I sucked my fingers and wanted to eat, but there was nothing. I cried when I saw a shiny bag of washing powder in my mother's hand, which looked like candy I had just eaten. Mom thought I had it for fun, so she gave it to me and kept walking. She inadvertently turned around and found that I was eating washing powder, and my mouth was full. My mother's tears burst out at once, and she picked me up and went home.
When I got home, my mother only took out a few eggs from home and went to the canteen to change a few pounds of sugar for me to eat. Watching me gobble, my mother finally squeezed out a smile on her tearful face.
Gradually, my mother's smile blurred. My idea came back to reality. I don't know when my eyes filled with tears. Many years later, when I think of this past, I always shed tears. The voice of "Don't worry, eat slowly" is still ringing in my ears. I stood still.
I grow up day by day, but my mother grows old day by day. Wrinkles climbed up her forehead and corners of her eyes, and white hair appeared on her ears. Mom, your love is higher than the sky and deeper than the sea. Being your daughter is the greatest happiness in my life. No matter how the future changes, my love for you will never change!
I stood in my old house, listening to the echo of maternal love …
Listen to the echo composition 7 "I broke the lyre, and I'm not playing with anyone." It was the sad girl who sang in a weak voice and made my heart tremble, but in the end I didn't look back. Too much reconciliation and embarrassment, and turned his head. I thought this noisy separation and integration would last forever, but I didn't expect that one day everything would become a thing of the past. Two noisy girls will be so far apart that they don't even ask each other for information.
"My passion is like a fire in winter." Accompanied by singing, it is the girl who is passionate, with short hair and big eyes Where there is her, there is singing. Even so, I still have some disdain for her. Singing, making boyfriends, sitting on the beam of boys' bicycles and singing passionate songs all the way have become a unique landscape inside and outside the campus. I thought this kind of scenery would last forever, but in a blink of an eye, the girl has become a wife and mother, so I called to ask my child what to do if he was naughty and didn't concentrate on his studies. And that handsome guy, can a girl with big eyes sing in his ear?
"If the surface is broken, you can roll it again. Is there a chance to come back after the exam? " It was the afternoon when the college entrance examination results came out. When I was rolling noodles, my father came home and threw me a cold sentence. Knowing that the results of the college entrance examination were coming down and that my father had gone to see the results, I rolled under a rolling pin for a long time and forgot to sprinkle some flour. When my father stood in front of me, I suddenly realized that noodles and rolling pins had been stuck together. My father's words made my heart tremble with pain. Bend your head and tear the dough off the rolling pin. Tears pattered on the chopping board. That meal, salty and astringent, I don't know how to spend that night.
As usual, it was a quiet night. After class, I sat in the classroom and watched the students study in the evening. Faced with the problem of "listening to the echo", some voices I thought I had forgotten in my life knocked on my memory one by one, only to find out how many days I thought I would never get through or get through, but inadvertently turned into memories.
How many silent nights have you had and how many times have you recalled the past? Thank you for giving me this silent night. Thanks to this topic, I can list some echoes in my life.
How many voices sounded tonight, but I don't remember?
Listen to Echo Composition 8 The sun rolled up the breath of nature and floated into my heart, and my thoughts followed this clever elf back to the vegetable field.
"Mom, I'll go too!" Seeing my mother skillfully carrying the basket on her back, I shouted to go with her. She is worried that I am not used to the field path. She didn't agree at first, but finally she couldn't beat me and followed me. The paths in the field are really criss-crossing, and my mother carefully digs up the waist-high weeds in front. The sun shines warmly on this land full of harvest joy. I watched her busy behind her mother, and my heart was warm.
After several rounds, I saw a desolate place. What greeted me was not the vegetables that were about to drip, but a large piece of dead leaves, dry as wood. I was surprised and said, "Mom, is this our potato?"
Mother listened to my words and buried her feet in the ground. I took out a small shovel from the basket and began to turn over the fertile land. A gust of wind blew, and the leaves of potatoes were yellow and thin, and the broken leaves were in danger, shaking and falling in this field.
I asked to help my mother in the field, but my mother refused, so she gave me a job of "cleaning the soil on potatoes". I crouched down, stroked the big round potato with my hand and moved the soil away. Potatoes are white and fat, like a sleeping baby, full of vitality. I looked at the bony leaves and full potatoes in the field and suddenly realized.
Thin leaves are the roots!
Leaves absorb as much sunlight as possible, but they are transported underground without leaving a trace. On the surface, they live a rich life, with plenty of food and clothing, light and rain. You don't know that it has quietly nourished the children! Children get old when they get older!
I looked up at my mother in the sun. Over the years, her body began to stoop, and her proud hair began to mix with silver hair. I took my mother by the hand and said, "Mom, that's enough. Go back! " I gently wiped the sweat from her forehead, and my mother's eyes showed a trace of relief.
On the way home, my mother was still in front, and I realized that my mother had lost weight! Leaves are thin for roots. I carefully hid her shadow for fear of stepping on it. How can I describe my mother's greatness with a few strokes?
Listen to echo composition 9. Stay in front of the window and watch the snow falling quietly outside. When the snow falls, it is immediately melted by the enthusiasm of the earth. This is the snow scene in Jiangnan, so soft and quiet, I always feel that something is missing in my heart. Naturally, I think of the grand snow scene in the north.
It can be said that winter in the north is not really winter if it doesn't snow. I still remember the snow, when it snowed heavily, which hindered the pace of people's travel and had to sit in the room to keep warm. Snowflakes flying all over the sky are soon covered with branches, which can't help but remind people of the grand occasion of "like a strong wind in spring, blowing the petals of ten thousand pear trees at night". At this time, I was squatting in front of the window to see the masterpieces of nature, just like "six flying flowers came into the house and sat watching bamboo turn into beautiful branches". Appreciate this feeling. Snowflakes seem to dance with rhythm and feel like a group of elves in the air. They are like this, one after another, never pushing, never trampling, falling, falling. For a second, I seemed to hear the sound of snowflakes falling, so melodious, so slender, so yearning.
People usually stay at home in such heavy snow. Some people will be bored watching TV, and they will enjoy using a thermos to warm their hands that will freeze in the cold winter. Maybe no children really use the light reflected by snow to read books, and maybe no one will wait for the teacher without complaint! You can also take advantage of this quiet atmosphere to have a good sleep, and I am one of them.
When I woke up, I found crystal snow lying on the ground and on the wall. Looking at this clean and white world, my distractions were swept away and the dirt was washed away, leaving only a pure land. The raging snow has stopped, leaving only the world decorated with pure white. I don't want to leave this sacred world. Maybe that place will be the eternal resting place of my soul, with white peach blossoms on one side.
The snow in the north will still be staged every year and will still cover the whole city. With its whiteness, people's pressure and fatigue will be swept away, bringing different quietness, soothing, restraint and depth. Jiangnan will only continue the cold and piercing winter rain, which is soft and has no aftertaste. I will always fall into the memory of the snow scene in the north, but I have no feeling about the winter in the south of the Yangtze River, and I will leave without mercy.
At this moment, it seems that I can still hear the echo of the snow in the north. I just want to remember the sound of missing.
Listen to the echo composition 10 The sky is as transparent as water, and the rain gently blows on my cheek. I sit at the window and meditate.
Grandma went to the street as usual today, carrying a glass bottle as usual. She held it, as if holding precious jewels, and quietly took small steps step by step along the tall buildings in the street. Go through it again, go through it again, day after day, year after year, even on rainy and snowy days.
I knew that my grandmother had such a "compulsory course" since I was a child, but I never asked her why, just curious: what's the point of doing repetitive things every day? And that strange glass bottle. My mother said it was my grandfather's legacy. I looked at it carefully, but it was just an ordinary bottle. No more than 10 yuan, but my grandmother regards it as a rare treasure. The strangest thing is that there is nothing in the bottle. It is empty.
I guess: what's so strange about empty bottles? You can buy a lot if you want. Why just treasure? Maybe grandpa put water in it to raise flowers, so after the flowers are gone, the bottle still has memory value; Either you have a tadpole, or you put his folded 100 paper crane from my grandfather to my grandmother, and my grandmother let it wander around the old street every day. So where did the paper crane fly now?
Finally, I decided to solve the mystery that has existed for nearly 20 years.
I took back my thoughts and went to grandma's house through the rain curtain, which made her very confused. Her eyelashes trembled slightly and she smiled and promised to tell me the answer.
She bent down, I held her, and we came to the old street with bottles. She walked slowly along the wall, holding the bottle tightly with one hand and stroking the wall with the other: "You must think the bottle is empty! Everyone thinks so except me. There is the kindest thing in it, no, it's baby, which your grandfather told me before he died. " "What did you say?" I'm surprised.
"Yes, there was no tape recorder at that time. He asked the doctor to take down his bottle of water, pour out the medicine inside and let me take it. He said to the bottle mouth intermittently in his last weak voice, "Wife, live well, and I will wait for you in heaven with eternal love for you." She said grandma was crying, so she put the bottle tightly to her ear, and a beautiful smile appeared on her wrinkled face: "I heard him talking to me again, and the echo floated over and over again." "Listen!" I took the bottle and listened with my ears, but I heard nothing. Oh, you should listen carefully.
Listen to the Echo Composition 1 1 Wandering in the gentle and graceful streets of Jiangnan town, the gray sky is full of fine rain and falls in the wet soil, endless ripples appear on the river, and the awning boat swings quietly, full of people's wishes for Jiangnan's wetness.
I accidentally stepped into an alley, which was long and long. I suddenly thought of Dai Wangshu's rainy lane. Did he meet a woman like lilac in such a rainy lane? It suddenly occurred to me that there is such a long alley in my hometown.
The rain is ticking, knocking on the transparent window lattice of Jiangnan people, which is the response of the earth to it.
"The rain has stopped. Come out and play." Friends pushed open wooden doors that could not be closed tightly and ran in the alley. "Sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand, sand.
"Let's play hide-and-seek today. You go hide. I'll come to you when I count to 100. " Xiao Pang's voice of calling everyone excitedly still lingers in my ears. In this way, a large group of people poured out of the streets and lanes, like the rising waves, and suddenly dispersed. Soon, I found a place to live. That is an old elm tree, which has long since disappeared, and has been replaced by old one. Decades have passed, leaving only the echoes of the wind passing through stumps and desolate tree holes. Now I'm hiding in this tree hole, quietly waiting for Xiao Pang to come to me. But he won't come to me again. Ten years passed quickly, like a sword whizzing past your eyes. We are all grown up.
The alley remains the same. But the people who played together in those years have all gone, leaving only memories for each other.
I still remember that day, it was so cold that no one came to see me until sunset. The night was quiet, only I looked at the old elm tree and said nothing.
Now I am back in this familiar alley, listening to the echo, but I feel empty in my heart. A long time is like a gust of wind, blowing away the frolicking people in those years, and the alley is a little lonely.
Unwilling to recall, I had to make a cup of fragrant tea and pick a morning flower in short Qiu Li in the south of the Yangtze River. Another gust of wind blew, and I heard laughter as bright as two bells. I know this is the echo of memory.
Listening to the echo composition 12 is another rainy day. I lie prone on the window, listening to the rain beating on the window and singing softly. I think of playing with friends in the park near the old house, feeling the wind blowing across my face, and flying kites with my father in the open space around the old house. It is this weather that reminds me of my nostalgia for my hometown.
Before moving, our family lived near a school, and the surrounding environment was beautiful. My little seed began to sprout and grow from there, and my little dream began to grow wings from there. I spent a wonderful childhood there.
The old house is full of songs in spring, summer, autumn and winter.
In spring, there is a weak apricot in Necole Liu, which contains half spring rain and half drooping silk. Opposite the old house is a mountain. When the spring breeze blows over this land, the mountain peaks are dyed bright green. Flowers and trees in the nearby park also spit out spring buds and green leaves, and then peach blossoms bloom. Under the guidance of the natural spirits, I will always be immersed in the vibrant spring scenery.
In summer, I don't know where the dragon goes after the rain, and a pool of grass is full of frogs. After the rain, the sun shines on the earth and the air is fragrant. Everywhere the grass leaves are covered with glittering and translucent raindrops, and only toads are hidden among the grass leaves. They will jump out in front of you from time to time to scare you. By the time you come to your senses, they will have jumped away. This long pullover brings joy to the summer after the rain.
In autumn, the autumn wind is bleak, the weather is cool, and the vegetation is shaking and revealing frost. Autumn seems to give people a sad atmosphere, but the autumn I spent in the old house has a different taste. It's sunny in late autumn, and the strong sunshine jumps in the air. I stepped on the path covered with fallen leaves, like a king walking through a long red carpet, and my heart was full of beautiful expectations for the future.
In winter, when six snowflakes float into the house, sit down and watch the bamboo turn into lovely branches. I spent the only snowy day in the old house. After a snow, I breathed the biting cold air, and the soft snow reflected tiny flashes. I made beautiful things with snow in the snow.
In the old house, you can not only hear the wind blowing, but also hear the comfortable snoring of Caiyun. I can not only hear the light rain, but also hear the metal sound of the sun setting. Because of that closeness to nature, I love my old home even more.
Listen to the echo composition 13 whenever I feel depressed and wander alone in the silent path, I think of her. Whenever I lie on my side and admire the lonely moon quietly, I will also think of her-my hometown.
I just entered high school, so I shouldn't be homesick. But when I am frustrated and extremely depressed, I will miss home.
When I was a child, I used to bury all my glass balls in the yard. I wonder if we can dig them up now. When I was a child, I used to run around the streets, but now I have lost that passion. When I was a child, I used to stand in front of my father and look at the hair tips beside his chest. But now I have flown out of my father's chest and suffered the wind and rain outside alone ... people are always growing up and leaving the past behind. This "past" is worth remembering. I spent most of my time in my hometown. Therefore, when I am happy, lonely and confused, my first thought is home.
I wonder if dad remembered to water that pot of azaleas at home. He was still in the tape recorder when I left. Dad must remember to take it out! Xiaohua Mall next door doesn't always come to my house to catch mice. Dad must have hoed the grass in the yard. The leaves of that Toona sinensis tree have probably fallen out by this time, right? At night, the moonlight poured into the room and flowed in the folds of the quilt, like a quiet mountain spring, flowing in the mountains. My hometown is asleep now, too Maybe the rose at home is also enjoying the moon with me. Maybe at the moment, dad is watching CCTV- 1 1 in front of the TV.
Everything is so peaceful and quiet. The moon probably knows the answer.
My yearning for my hometown is unorganized and disorganized. I'm so homesick that I get emotional about a bug, a cricket and a grass.
When I think of everything in my hometown, I feel full and dependent. My hometown is the harbor of my mind. When I experienced the pain of wind and waves, my nostalgia for my hometown became stronger. At this time, the comfort of my hometown is a good medicine to cure my inner trauma.
Listening to the echo, I heard the rumble of cars in my hometown; Listening to the echo, I saw the blood-like sunset in my hometown; Listening to the echo, I thought of me coming home with a nostalgic heart in the rumble of cars in my hometown and the bloody sunset in my hometown.