Writing Tips: Whether you choose to touch the city or feel the countryside, you need to reveal the characteristics of your environment and life. Based on their own "touch" and "feeling", we should advocate sincere composition, be good at turning the big into the small, turning the virtual into the real, and strive for the big idea from the small. Note that it is a proposition composition, not a topic composition. You can choose one of these two. When writing, you can take the city or the countryside as the main angle and take another point as the correspondence or contrast. The examination of questions is zero difficulty, and the scores of candidates are all in material selection, material composition, conception and language. Famous demonstration 1 I feel that grandpa left four thick genealogies in the countryside, half a foot thick, and they were heavily placed on the table. In the crowded genealogy, the three words representing me are not as big as a locust tree leaf. But that's enough. For a person, at the end of his life, all he can do is support the world. One day many years later, if someone in the younger generation is lucky enough to read these three words, they also know the existence of such a person, just like my ancestors in the genealogy, with no specific image, no voice and smile, only blood flowing in the body. I can't imagine how much the younger generation knows about me. Compared with the latecomers, people in the past are like an unfathomable universe, boundless, and even if they ponder for a lifetime, they can only know the fur. But I know that in this land where I lived, there must be something that will remember me, just like a bird remembers a tree where it lived on a stormy night, and a bee remembers a little honey it brewed for the first time. As a person who has walked and lived in this land, what can I remember? My contemporaries have disappeared like me, and the younger generation are eagerly experiencing the life of their own time. No one will care about the clods in an ordinary man's field. The big Toona tree at the entrance of the village may still remember some of my childhood. For me, who was waiting to grow up, childhood was as long as lying in bed waiting for dawn on a sleepless night. Looking back on childhood now is as short as a day. The year of childhood is so different from that of adulthood that I am often confused about the fairness and reliability of time. From the long years before my life began, Toona sinensis has been standing in my unpredictable future. Watching me go from one side of life to the other, it will suddenly remind me at a certain moment. One late summer afternoon, a six-year-old child timidly walked among the old people who were dozing in the shade of cicadas. He pulled his trousers tightly with his hands, carefully and puzzled. This group of old people who give the burden of life to their younger generations have no expectations for the future. Their greatest interest is to gather in the shade of the big Toona sinensis tree every summer, just like farming their own fields, tirelessly turning over memories and repeating distant or recent past events over and over again. Their other interest is to laugh at and tease every male school girl who passes by them. They played tricks on the child under the tree more than once. Sometimes when he passed them, he would take off his pants, then burst into laughter and watch him frantically lift his pants and run away. Sometimes they make him curious in the form of games. "I hold your nose, can you open your mouth?" When the child raises his face and opens his mouth when his nose is pinched, what the old man holds in his hand will also fall into his mouth, which is a piece of dried chicken excrement. Once, the child came out of the supply and marketing cooperative in the street, carrying a bowl full of soy sauce and walking slowly and carefully. They all laughed when they saw him in the distance. The children moved forward steadily, step by step, unaffected by their laughter. Suddenly, one of them shouted, "There is a hole under the bowl, and it is leaking!" " "The child looked at the bowl upside down without thinking. When the child walked to the yard where his grandparents lived with a sad face and a bowl, his grandparents laughed their heads off at his immature back and fidgety steps. When I was six years old, I learned to distinguish between a good joke and a bad joke from the smiles on people's faces. This precocious ability benefits from this group of old people sitting under the big Toona sinensis tree doing nothing. The nest of ants in the corner of the barn outside the village should remember me. When I was a teenager, I caught worms and fed them. The naughty little mule colt also came to look around. I waved to drive it away, but it turned around and slapped me on the forehead with its newly walking hoof. Its hoof left a deep pain and a permanent scar for the first time in my life history. When I ran back to the yard like a frightened rabbit across the field, I wondered if it would regret its heavy hooves. I really should be grateful that this lesson is just right. If I go any further, I may become the one-eyed pirate king, and the world will be different in my mind from now on. Although I am equally curious about the world seen by one-eyed, it feels a bit monotonous if I spend my whole life experiencing it. My teenager gave the campus, and the bell of Jingjing campus is the king of time, which controls the class, goes to bed and gets up. If I notice a person who often does 3.1-point exercise in dormitory, canteen and library, I should leave a deep impression on campus. It gave me a spiritual world, the beginning and end of my first love, and a reincarnation that spans thousands of miles. From rural areas to towns, from plains to plateaus, from grassy hometown to Gobi desert thousands of miles away. How much parting and melancholy does a person have to go through before he can really grow up? My future life is destined to be dedicated to the years, just like giving love to my lover and filial piety to my parents. It may cherish me, or abandon me and throw me into the corner of time. But just like tree species choose soil and fish choose river, since they choose life, they should take root and sprout, learn from the past, gain confidence from hope, and make more marks that can prove their lives, so that when they turn to dust, they can follow these marks in the drifting air, take a look at their hometown and home where they have no choice but to leave, and see the marks and traces left by their loved ones after hard work. Master Demonstration 2 Evidence of this Life When Liu Liangcheng left, I didn't know how to cherish what I had. We just knocked down a courtyard wall, cut down the trees, and pulled down the shed and stove. We think it's useless. There will be many new things where we move. Everything will happen again, and it will get better every day. When I left, I didn't know to say goodbye to those familiar things. I don't know. Turn around and say, Grass, you should be older. Earth wall, stand firm, don't fall down. This house will remain strong until the year when you can have it. In case of collapse, you must leave a broken wall ring, a door opening and window facing south, a flue in the corner, a pot head and broken tiles. It's best to leave a small piece of mud. Even if the wall skin falls off completely, it will leave a palm-sized piece in the corner inadvertently washed away by the wind and rain, leaving smoke and ash on the mud skin. When I left, I didn't know that my life would need to be proved one day. One day no one will believe in the past. I will also have doubts about everything in the past. Was that my life? Have I really seen the strong wind deep underground? Blacker, fiercer, in the opposite direction, scraping all bones and roots. Did I really hear a big bird at night? The whole village was quiet, only the birds were singing. Did I really run along that dark country road? There was a lame man chasing him behind him, and his good leg fell to the ground with a bang. Do I really have my own big elm? There really is an elm stump tied with a cow, and its fork points directly at our courtyard gate. When I find it, I will find my way home. Besides, did I really bathe in the long and bright moonlight? Night after night, it penetrates the silver Yue Hui behind things through walls, trees and roads. At that time, the front and back of those things were exposed to the moonlight without looking back, and I saw the past without looking back. Now, who can tell the whole truth about everything? Who will see the wind blowing the old wall, breaking the courtyard door, passing through a person's slowly loose bone joints, leaving all the wind in his life. Isn't all this a dream? If there are no old houses and roads, no ups and downs of dust, no people and livestock who grew up with me and still live in the village, and no wind that is still blowing, who will prove the past life-even if there are them, who will witness a person's inner survival? I went back to my village, but now it belongs to someone else. It took only a few decades, and it became another look. Although I knew it would be like this-many years ago, when they daubed mud and painted white ash on these walls, I knew that the white ash and mud skin would fall off sooner or later. When they hit those earth walls, I knew that these walls would eventually return to the soil-they dug the soil to the wall, hit the wall one by one, and shouted the sound of rammed soil trumpets to let people near and far know that this place was built by hitting the wall. After the wall is completed, there is a pit on the edge of each wall. The higher the wall hits, the bigger and deeper the pit will be. They didn't fill it in, but planted a few trees in the pit at most. Those pits have been waiting by the wall year after year, and then I know what a pit is waiting for. But I don't know if a red rooster, a black dog in his lair, and a ray of sunset shining on the (vanished) doorframe every afternoon will be as silent as a grain of dirt when all this is unrecognizable and about to disappear. Also, among them, I spent my childhood, adolescence, youth, his happiness, loneliness, unconscious panic and excitement quietly ... Have they all become meaningless to today's life? When my home was lost, I knew that all the steps of going home had been firmly on the road of nothingness. Time flies between the city and the countryside. Spring is coming in a blink of an eye. Although the dead trees are still swaying, and the cold wind blows hard in March in the north, all the ice on the lake has melted and the branches of willow trees have become soft. The real spring in the north should be in May. Living in the city, unlike living in the countryside, we can see the mist in early spring, the wild flowers all over the mountains or the busy scene of spring sowing, which makes us feel the breath of spring. An English poet once wrote the poem "God created the countryside and man created the city". Yes, in the city, we are always busy, busy working, busy making money, busy socializing, time is divided into countless pieces, and reinforced concrete wraps our gentle hearts. I don't know who said a wise saying that beauty is everywhere, but I lack a pair of eyes to find it. I like the countryside because it keeps its simplicity. Rural life in Shan Ye seems to leave no trace of time. I like this city too. Although city life has its shortcomings, it also has its unique charm. As long as we are caring people and have a gentle and leisurely heart, you will find its colorful beauty. This city is very beautiful. Although there are no golden crops, no huts and bamboo fences, and no quiet green gauze tents, there are soothing ponds, lotus leaves reflecting sunlight and colorful neon lights. Different seasons also bring us different beauty, such as willow in spring, Sophora japonica in summer, red maple leaf in autumn and snow dance in winter. This city is very beautiful. Its buildings are towering, busy and prosperous, witnessing the progress of mankind. Standing here, we can feel the rolling of the wheel of history. There is a stage to show our lives, and there are numbers and quick information we need. In the morning, you might as well take a walk in the park, which will bring you another kind of beauty. How many people do morning exercises! You see how energetic those old people are when they do aerobics, and they also practice Tai Gong Jian. They are both rigid and flexible in one move and one style, and they are heroic. There are people kicking shuttlecock, jumping really high, jumping, making shuttlecock dance so popular. What's more interesting is that everyone plays together, and you come and go, cooperate with each other and enjoy it. In the quiet corner of the forest over there, students are sketching, and the looming small bridge attracts people who do morning exercises to stop and watch. There are all kinds of people who exercise here, including old people with gray temples, lively children and healthy young people No matter who has more money, what * * * has together is happiness. At night, the twilight is shrouded, and the lights in the city reflect the stars all over the sky. In that brightly lit hut, there are our warm dreams. Master demonstration 4 Feel the countryside. Occasionally, with a tired heart, I followed a yellow leaf to the countryside and projected it on an uncut ridge. It is leisurely and silent, looking at lush green hills and clouds washed by rain in the distance, and listening to the moist and quiet of Shan Ye. Sometimes, there are eagles flying in the bright sky, just like the mood at this time, calm and clean. Look at the distance quietly. A buffalo comes, a faint fragrance comes, and a bird is singing, which makes people try to recall the first and last feelings and move towards childhood. In fact, it is really necessary for us to come back from time to time in a hurry all day, hide in the quiet countryside, forget the noise and temptation of distant cities, and let our desires and impetuousness let them be hurricanes and rainstorms. Then, skip a group of people and accept another life. The setting sun is like orange, and the smoke is like a country road, which often looms when I look back at my hometown. Away from the smoke, wandering in the homeless city, without support, like leaves in the wind. Some people say: God created the countryside. Now the city is far away from the countryside, which makes people lose their childhood memories and dries up the clarity of the source of survival. The smoke from the kitchen at sunset always reminds people of their elderly parents standing at the entrance of the village, waiting for their children to hurry home through misty eyes. Day after day, year after year. Close to the smoke, life will be blessed by the sun. Cooking smoke makes people pure and shy, making people as fresh and tender as the first new leaf on the dead branches in early spring. Feel the countryside ■ Li Xinxin The people in Hangzhou No.2 Middle School (walking in Peking University) are such strange animals, who always have infinite yearning for the unknown, so that they are willing to spend their whole lives for a completely different life. I have been to Xixi once, and one of the stops was to feel the primitive life of farmers. Like many poems praising the countryside, the words in the introduction always reveal faint joy and yearning. A wood-burning stove, a wooden crib, carved paper windows and even a simple wooden washbasin and washboard constitute the so-called pastoral dream. People give people a beautiful impression of "countryside" at will, and just take a few words from irrelevant poets, and turn the countryside into a place to send dreams-an unrealistic dream that I have been pursuing all my life. When "country people" stopped pouring into the city, people in prison city began to fantasize. Perhaps only the world of reinforced concrete is closed by unfounded yearning, and perhaps only people who think they are civilized are labeled as naive. So there are so many naive "city people" who yearn to spend most of their youth on transportation and buy a house for the elderly in the countryside. The busyness of the city squeezes out our thinking time. Country life is a castle that we build after working hard day and night. We only smile when we pass by. It's like a tenant visiting a property that may belong to him one day in the future, but forgetting to stop in a hurry and push the door with peace of mind. Why is the distance between the city and the countryside so far under the same starry sky? Is it because we have always been city dwellers, or because we have lived under an invisible glass dome since childhood? Or, just because it is a new word with no definite meaning, it can be tampered with at will without being questioned by the logic that only belongs to the city? We are just tired and bored. Perhaps our "country" is just an undisturbed holiday, a quiet moonlit night, and a life that is better for ourselves every day. So close. People in the city just want to follow the rhythm of the city, desperately consume their enthusiasm and youth, live up to themselves, and then create such a seemingly realistic but so distant dream. "Village" is actually so close, why should it be regarded as the ultimate reward? A city can survive ■ Mao Mingchao Hangzhou Foreign Language School (walk to Peking University) Some people love mountains, some people love love the water, but I love cities. Among those who love cities, some love cities and some love towns-it doesn't matter to me. I love the soul of the city. Cities can also be personalized. Technology can give a city any appearance it wants, just as people can choose any clothes they like. But such a city is not real. I thought of Pascal. On the axis of time and space, cities and people disappear as a particle, but as Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am", if there is thought and soul, a city can also contain the whole universe. And the soul of the city is the people in the city. I forgot where I read this sentence: "My love for a city is directly proportional to the bookstore and history of this city." I totally agree. Gorky's words, "People who don't study have no soul", are still hitting me like thunder. Refusing to read and think, as Arendt pointed out, puts people under the pressure of natural attributes, is satisfied with material consumption, and becomes a slave to the inevitability of existence. Marx regards labor as a necessary condition for human beings, and I think reading and thinking are the only way for people to become citizens. How can a city be called a city without citizens? And history is the source of citizenship. Not the history of architecture, but the history of habit. A city exists because of its residents from the day it was born. The words and stories of residents, the laws they made, and the way they communicate with people constitute the blood of this city; Today, it has become a moral law and value judgment handed down from generation to generation, reflecting people's character. For example, northerners in China are bold and southerners are delicate; Another example is the romance and passion in Paris and the preciseness in Berlin, which are the indelible marks of a city's history. Writing here, I suddenly realized that it is not appropriate to touch the city. Touch is material. In Hengdian or Hollywood, you can reach any city in the world. But this city is dead. The blood, life and soul of a city are people who are ignored by skyscrapers, cars and planes as particles. I love my hometown, so I feel him: his breathing and pulse are the same as mine. The Sichuan earthquake was so strong that it almost destroyed Wenchuan City. But the people in Wenchuan are still there, just temporarily leaving. As long as they choose to become citizens and continue to write the history of Wenchuan, the life of this city will still exist. A person who gives up reading and thinking will die, a city that forgets history will die, and Wenchuan is not dead yet. Invisible city ■ Entertainment Hangzhou Foreign Language School (walking to Peking University) "Kublai Khan noticed that the cities in Kyle and Polo are almost the same, as if you can move from one city to another without traveling by changing the combination elements." When Icano Calvino wrote this sentence, this sentence, despite my arrogance, was tired of this city, just like an eternal prophecy, which covered us tightly. One hundred years later, we live in a highly urbanized era, with modern attributes flowing in our blood. We moved from this city to that city, and then moved from that city to further places. This endless migratory bird cycle always ends in the same ending-rusty thoughts and youth are abandoned by reality again and again and strangled in a room in the reinforced concrete jungle. The city, still a monotonous building block, stands in a cold form. Are we too busy? It is the fear of the city, climbing and fleeing in horror on the modern civilization of the inverted triangle; It is the desire of the city that fights fiercely in the splendor of gold and jade; In Baudelaire's works, the cruelty of the city is silently queued. No one, no one here, to touch any city, invisible corner. The invisible city is the pulse of the city. Kyle once moved to say that Zobede's streets, like white wool, also support the residents' real dreams of looking forward to the future; I personally felt that the gurgling sound of small bridges and flowing water in Old Town of Lijiang is also telling the Millennium peace of water and soil here. Faced with these vivid exceptions, do we not know what we are losing, or do we already know? The invisible city is the dream of the city. The infinite dream may make all the population and GDP meaningless, and the touch of the city is not unified by independent individuals. In my dream, London is just a red flag in Trafalgar, new york is just a hanging day in Manhattan, and Hangzhou is just a scene of thousands of people working hard before a rainstorm in June. The invisible city is the true feelings of the city. This truth has been frozen by complex relational banks for too long. Once released, it will reach every corner of the city irresistibly-this antenna is a longing for love, a longing for true knowledge and an irresistible sympathy for human suffering. Just like facing the fragmented city, we shed tears. At this moment, Beichuan has a significance beyond geographical coordinates and has become a standing monument. Invisible cities can be touched at any time. To go back to our past or find our future, please touch. I am a person who grew up in the city. I am used to seeing many tall buildings in my field of vision. I like to see the colorful night scenes of this city. When I walked through those commercial streets, I was proud of the city in my heart. But when I knock on the keyboard, I often feel the clicking sound of wheat ears under the harvester. It's fuzzy. It's the sound of memory. Click click ... it's the rhythmic sound of the train on the tracks. From far, far away, come here. When I was a child, I often took the train and went to many distant places. In order to reach the city, we crossed countless villages. Outside the window are golden wheat fields, tall wheat piles in the fields, docile cattle and sheep, simple and humble houses, and scarecrows guarding the wheat fields. Even, you can see the sunshine pouring on the petals of sunflower, and the petals tremble slightly, as if time flows from one piece to another in an instant. The countryside, like a distant image, exists in the stream of consciousness. Where the eyes can't reach, they are all done by imagination. Yes, those memories of the countryside, in Van Gogh's paintings and in distant songs, have become confused and more and more idealistic. The song sings melodiously: whatever can't be reached is called far away, and what can't be returned is called hometown. In my dream, I found that the countryside is the hometown that people have forgotten in the distance. Looking back, the countryside is the place where people can get closest to the earth. For thousands of years, simple people, with their backs to the sun, have completely delivered their most loyal beliefs and simple feelings to this land. Milan Kundera said in The Unbearable Lightness of Life that the closer our life is to the earth, the more real it is. The attachment to the city and the infatuation with the countryside are always entangled in people's blood. People are exposed to the city and the fast-paced life every day, but the city brings them disappointment and strangeness every day. When they are tired, they always yearn for the countryside, hoping to feel all the primitive and simple things there. The countryside gives them a sense of security that they can be close to the earth. However, things are always changing, buildings are built in a unified style that is no longer consistent with wheat fields, and the curves of field paths become stiff. People look at the present countryside with a disappointed expression. Those pictures that disappeared in memory became eternal pains in the heart, and thus became places that people could never reach. In order to reach the countryside, now we not only have to pass through countless cities.
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