American Desperado
confiscate
homesickness
Changchengyao
When the autumn wind blows, when the last touch of green on Cezanne's canvas sings with autumn insects, home is calling me. Home, the habitat of human souls, the conversion of all souls, and the sudden recovery of childhood memories: tall buttonwood trees, low villages, stormy old trees, old houses, men ... old oil lamps swaying in the heart with the wind ... all these seem to be separated. It seems that the gold dust of the ancient capital of the Six Dynasties washed away its past prosperity, leaving only a white memory! Mo, I think of the sunset by repulse bay. There is a bunch of blooming red camellia in front of the grave where Xiao Hong, a female writer, sleeps. There is no home here, like Xiao Hong's home! When the tide rises and falls, I lie down and listen to the "gossip of Haitao", accompanied by only a bunch of lonely "blooming" camellia! Home, Xiao Hong's home, I don't know if Xiao Hong ever thought about her home when she left home, but I think I must have thought of her hometown by the Hulan River, her "flaming cloud", her kind grandfather, her back garden and her lonely childhood ... However, she died young and died in another country, accompanied by only that lonely camellia! In buzzing Chun Lv, frogs are banging on the summer shade, cicadas are laughing at autumn, and snowflakes are dancing with the rhythm of winter. ...
That tree, that man, that old house, has been embedded in the wandering heart ever since, and when the bags are carried on the shoulders, the eyes are hazy. However, where is home and where is home? Tagore said: "I abandoned all my sadness and doubts to chase the tide of that house, because the eternal stranger is calling me, and he is coming along this road." Yang Ming also said, "Isn't my hometown always a foreign land? Hometown is only the last stop of our ancestors' wandering journey. " Therefore, home is everywhere, in everyone's heart; In other words, nowhere is home! When I listen to the rustling of trees in the evening breeze, the nostalgia for wandering is tearing my heart. It is a desire to escape from pain, a yearning for mother and home, and it will take you home! Every road is the way home, and every road takes you to find your mother and walk home!