Cui Hao's hometown is Kaifeng, which is a little far from the Yellow Crane Tower, not too far. This is known to many people, so why did he ask such a question? I think anyone who left his hometown in his early years will have a duality when he misses his hometown: his hometown in his heart is both concrete and not specific. Specific to a river bend, a few small trees, half of the moss; But if that's all, the thirst can be completely transformed into the action of going home. However, I am always disappointed when I really go back to my hometown. Is this what bothers me every day? It's like suddenly seeing an overly realistic illustration behind a passionate famous sentence, and the poetry disappears. Therefore, a real wanderer is unwilling to return to his hometown. Even if I go back once in a while, I will leave soon, and I will miss them when I walk outside. As a result, they finally foolishly asked themselves where their hometown was.
Yes, going home is like suddenly seeing an over-realistic illustration behind a passionate famous sentence, and the poetry disappears. It is usually metaphysical to feel that an object is far away, but it is trivial and secular when it is really in complete contact. Culturally, she is an intoxicating and gentle Taoyuan township with low eaves and green grass by the stream, and her dream is what she wants in her heart. It's really close, but it turns a thousand times. Looking back, the city was in a dim state.
Chen Maoping: Where is my hometown after stepping on the world of mortals?
Another Yi 'an layman said, "Where is my hometown? Unless you are drunk, forget it. "
Forget when you are drunk, forget when you are drunk. 9. When I was at school, I liked poetry very much, and I also remembered many wonderful words and sentences. After work, I run around all day. Those books that have been turned over and over have now become dusty, trivial things occupy the main chapter of life, and those old loves are getting farther and farther away, but there is always only one sentence in my heart: "Where is my hometown? If you are not drunk, you will forget it." On the way to the vegetable market, I have to go through an alley, and there is often a faint smell of coal smoke around, which often reminds me of the smoke from every household in the village at dusk when I was a child, the cheerful cry of chickens and ducks when they returned to the market, and the appearance of old cows returning at dusk. This is my hometown that I will always remember. Besides, for me, my hometown is still the yearning of my relatives, the urging of my mother and the caring eyes of my parents. I can't forget it.
I can go home at once. The ticket is already in my bag. Hehe, this is an "old boat ticket" that takes me back to my hometown again. Go back and see your parents' aging faces, cook something delicious for your parents, and bring them home with your mother.
My hometown is a place with blue sky and blue sea, green trees and mountains, bright moon and stars, and it will always be the most beautiful and sweet place in my heart. Beautiful hometown and beautiful village often appear in my dreams. 10, there are traces of civilized invasion in the street, messy wires, shrinking meters, winding natural water pipes on the ground ... they destroy nature. However, in modern society, you have to live on them. You can't live without them. Nearby, you lost clean water. In the distance, it is a communication device connecting the world. Most of the strong laborers have moved outside. All the expressions of affection are attached to those short telephone lines and invisible fluctuations, so the affection seems to be still there, but the ties are getting weaker and weaker, and there will be no lingering drift. Sighs between the lines and deep homesickness ... 1 1, hometown is wine. Years of drifting in the north have made me more mature and confident, more strong and self-reliant. Although the busy and mechanical days every day make me almost numb, although the sky in the city is full of too much helplessness and hardship, I have forgotten my fatigue and tiredness and moved forward in the torrent of life. Learned to drink in the days of wandering. Although I don't drink much, I often get drunk in a foreign land, but my heart has always been in my hometown dream. After waking up, my tears dyed the long night red. It is really "where is my hometown?" Forget it, unless I'm drunk. " Since then, I have spent many intoxicating days and met my hometown that I miss so much. Sad songs can be used as tears, but from a distance they can be used as angelica. Whenever the morning sun shines in the east of the city, I will climb to the top of the mountain and look into the distance, wondering if the morning in my hometown is as sunny as it is now. Has the market in my hometown also started a noisy and prosperous day? Looking at the distance, I was surprised and disappointed with tears. Walking in the vast sea of people, watching the footsteps coming and going in a hurry, I will habitually stop and look for it to see if there is a shadow of a countryman in the past crowd. Can you send me a message from my hometown? Because I deeply know, "you people from my old country, tell me what happened there!" " . However, I am so hesitant and afraid that "now, close to my village and meeting people, I dare not ask a question". Despite this confusion, I am eager to find it. It's really "sadness meets spring in a foreign land, and Du Qu oriole knows it." It is heartbreaking on the shore of the sunset. " Why does homesickness keep growing? The prosperity of the city has puzzled my eyes. I can't find myself, but my hometown depends on it. Even if you live happily in a certain city, there is always something invisible pulling you in your heart. One is at home, the other is firmly tied to your heart, and it hurts when you pull it. Especially for people who have been away from their hometown for a long time, especially in the dead of night, the more mellow this cup of wine in their hometown is, the clearer the image of their hometown is, and it is obviously distressing for mellow people not to wake up. "If you stay away from hate like spring grass, you can go further and live." It is precisely because of this homesickness and homesickness that we can't get rid of it even if we go to the ends of the earth, so as to comfort the wandering people and make the wandering heart no longer lonely. Miss, let all travelers and wanderers feel sad! 12, "Where is your hometown? Unless you are drunk, forget it. " In my dream, there are always mountains and waters in my hometown. The mountains in my hometown are not very high and famous, but there are fruit trees, cherries, apples, peaches and apricots in front of and behind the village. When the harvest season comes, fruits are everywhere. The water in my hometown is a real mountain spring. Every rainy season, the mountains and waterfalls, even in drought, the clear spring will flow long and thin. Yes, one mountain, one water, one grass and one tree in my hometown have raised generations of hardworking villagers, who have been quietly cultivating this land for generations.
The water in my hometown is cool and sweet, and it is the water of life nurtured by wasted years.
The mountains in my hometown are undulating, and there are different customs of the world of flowers and fruits everywhere. 13, the taste of my hometown is like my mother's little milk, which continuously melts into our blood and waters our flower of life. The taste in the depths of my memory makes my homesickness more vivid and concrete, and the past is vivid in my memory. The more I can't go home, the more I miss home. Everyone in my hometown is always in front of me. Whenever I set foot on the hot land of my hometown, I immediately feel the sincerity and enthusiasm of my hometown. When I hear my hometown people affectionately calling my birth name, tasting delicious wild vegetables in my hometown, having a cordial conversation with respectable villagers, listening to the sound of heading rice, smelling the smell of the fields and the fresh smell of my hometown, the taste of my hometown will suddenly flow all over my body. That feeling is always happy and unforgettable. That's my beloved hometown, and that's my lifelong attachment. ...........
Hometown, in retrospect, is particularly close to our hearts. "Where is my hometown? Unless you are drunk, forget it. " What a tearful sentence! Some people say: hometown is also a foreign land, and it is the last stop for ancestors to wander. In fact, there are always some smells passed down from generation to generation among us, but you and I have different experiences. The smell of hometown makes us miss our hometown more, which is the same. Going out of my hometown and returning to my hometown is like going back to the starting point from the end. The old ones are time and rings. What remains unchanged is the homesickness that stays deep in my heart. What remains unchanged is our eternal love for our hometown. 14, smoke, when I think of my hometown, I will think of you, your elegant charm and distant back. Recently, you often appear in my dreams. You are like an old man who is used to watching the storms of the world. For generations, I was in no hurry, and as if nothing had happened, I drifted gently in the village where I was raised. Cooking smoke, in my dream, I can see your vicissitudes, and I can smell your unchanging breath. In my childhood memory, your figure is beautiful and kind. Although you are thin, you are as thin as my barren village and my malnourished face. But I still think you are beautiful and kind, just like my simple and kind folks. When I was a child, I longed for you to come as scheduled. Because when you rise, there will be food to eat; When you get up, there is hope. I don't know how many times, I remember that my sisters burned the fire in my kitchen. Your strong fragrance filled the yard and the water in the pot boiled. I will keep running out of the door, eager to see my mother. When I see my mother, I will fly over, look into the basin and borrow rice noodles from my neighbors. As far as I can remember, my mother always borrowed it and didn't let me down. At that time, there were many sisters in the family, and they were all very young. They didn't earn any work points, and the rations were not enough for the whole family. My father took 12-year-old sister, took the white flour home, changed it into commodities in distant cities, changed it into rice in Zhongwei, Ningxia, and changed it into coarse grains in cities. In this way, the family still eats intermittently, because my father and sister have not changed back to coarse grains. This is also the scene when your mother went to the neighbor's house to borrow rice and noodles when the smoke rose. Although I ate coarse grains almost every day at that time, I still don't remember the experience of starving to death because of your scheduled rise in the 1970s. Cooking smoke, that year in Na Yue, smelling your familiar breath, eating my mother's favorite sauerkraut and rice, I left the village where I lived for more than ten years-still a thin village, and came to a strange provincial capital to study. Looking at the high-rise buildings in the provincial capital, the dazzling array of goods, the endless stream of people and cars. I shed tears for my village, for its loneliness and poverty. The city is so pampered and elegant, but you are so poor and poor. Walking in the dimly lit streets of the city, I was fascinated by the night in the city. This city captured me. I am in love with this city, and I am eager to throw myself into its arms. In my dream, the smoke is curling up, and your breath is drowned by the noise of the city; Your figure is replaced by the glory of the city. I forgot you, I forgot the village where I grew up. Finally, I got my wish and became a resident of this city. What followed was trouble. Without a house, I feel like a vagrant in the village, just a passer-by in the city. I ask myself, where is my home and where is my root? At this time, I think of you again-the smoke from the kitchen, the village where I was born, and the courtyard where I was born. In the days of wandering in the city, I am glad that I still have a home, and my roots are in that small village with smoke. One day, in this city, I finally have a house, my own house. I think with a house, this is home; With a home, this is considered to have taken root in the city; Rooting, this is truly integrated into the city. When I really have a house and have been walking in the city for so many years, I feel less and less at home. My house hangs high in the air and is made of reinforced concrete. Is that my home hanging in the air? Where is my root? Li Qingzhao said, "Where is my hometown? Unless you are drunk, forget it. " Cooking smoke, I know that no matter how my status changes, the local accent can't be changed: no matter how far I go, the village that raised me can't be forgotten. And you, I can't forget, you are my hometown, engraved in my heart for a long time. No matter how the years are erased, they cannot be erased. Yes, no matter how poor and ugly my hometown is, I am still my parents. No matter how ugly and poor a child is, his parents will not abandon him. "You come from my motherland, tell me what happened! . When you pass my silk window, are plum blossoms in full bloom? " Wei, a great poet in the Tang Dynasty, I often ask about my hometown, and I am glad to see that my hometown has changed day by day. However, cooking smoke, my hometown is more and more strange to me. Now, the village where I was raised is connected with the county. Small buildings have been built in the village, with rows of uniform two floors. My village is gone, and the village that raised me is gone forever. The village is gone, and the crowing of chickens and dogs can't be heard, and the whining of donkeys and horses can't be heard. My hometown in my heart will disappear. Also, the smoke in my heart, you are gone! Smoke, I'm lost again. This time, the village that raised me lost me. Or my village, or which block of my city? Although it is not a high-rise building, it is the same reinforced concrete, and it is as cold as ice. Smoke billows from the kitchen stove, I can't see your figure, and I will never find my way home. In the bustling city and the village where I was raised, I became a homeless prodigal son. Cooking smoke, I can only smell your breath in my dream and see your figure again. The village that raised me was submerged by the prosperity of the city, and my hometown in my heart was gone. There are no cigarettes in my kitchen. Did I forget my hometown, or did my hometown abandon me? Yes, "homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old." Kitchen smoke, where are you? Where is my hometown? Where is my homesickness?