Listen to the semi-propositional composition 1: Listen to the sound of flowers, flowers fall without trace, and flowers are silent. Notes before the text of a book or after the title of an article.
She stood by the window alone, letting the tears flow freely.
My brother stood behind her and stared at her for a long time, his heart ached. My sister's face was scratched by tears, and my brother's heart was deeper.
Although my brother didn't say anything, his heart was choppy. His mind flashed pictures of making a snowman with his sister when he was a child, enjoying cherry blossoms with his sister in spring, and their laughter filled the whole family in winter nights. However, what ruined all this was a sudden car accident a month ago. Just after class, she wanted to go home and finish her homework for her brother. The car came towards her mercilessly on the road, and when she panicked, the windshield fragments stuck in her eyes. The twin brothers came with a kind heart, but it was too late. Asked the doctor in a hurry, the doctor replied in one breath that your sister was fine, shook her head and said nothing.
Since then, she has never smiled brightly in the sun.
A touch of green is swaying slowly against the spring breeze. My brother smelled the thick breath of spring and remembered my sister's haggard back. What it's like in my heart!
My brother approached the window, patted her on the shoulder behind him, tried to suppress all the sadness in the room and said, let's go and enjoy the cherry blossoms together. ? She is one leng, face? Brush? The ground turned white, he said in a voice he could only hear. Dude, you know I can't see. You know, you know? My brother leaned over her and whispered something, and she happily followed him out.
She stood weakly, holding her brother's hand tightly. My brother took her under the cherry tree. Once, it was her favorite. In the south of April, cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and a slight breeze overflows half the sky. She listened to everything quietly. The chirping of birds, the laughter of children and the voices of adults are endless. She just listened blankly. A cherry blossom bloomed gently, and my brother gently picked it and handed it to my sister. A milky white kitten curled up at her sister's feet, trying to send her warmth. A little girl came up to her and said, elder sister, you are so happy! ?
Her long-lost smile slowly spread out and whispered, Brother, you are right. ?
This is what my brother whispered to her:? I believe you can hear the sound of flowers! ?
Listen to the sound of happiness: listen to the sound of happiness. Although happiness is on the catwalk, I can still hear its voice.
Notes before the text of a book or after the title of an article.
The world is noisy. Weeping, cursing and sighing almost swallowed up the whole world. Happiness is like a lady who has just entered the society, with a gentle and warm voice. I quietly pricked up my ears in search of happiness.
A bear is holding a large group of honey, squinting slightly, leaning against a rough tree trunk. He looked around, then licked his lips, slowly and carefully put his hand into the honey pot, staring at the hand he had put in, his round eyes unblinkingly. It took out a palm of honey, sending out an attractive fragrance. Take a deep breath, slowly put your hand into your mouth, and when the sweetness overflows your mouth, take another sip. The sound of happiness is the taste in Zaba Zaba's mouth.
The sound of happiness is also around us.
On a lonely night, I listened to an old song, which made my memory ripple. Unconsciously, you hum along, sniff the happiness in the air, and think about the little things that make you happy.
You were sick that day and didn't go to school. In the evening, you received the homework copied by your best friend from your mother, and the beautiful small print said her concern. When you are ready to write it in your diary, you see the picture on the back: a teacup, painted in crayon, with a line of fine print on it:? Is it better? This is my newly researched tea! ? Medicine? Get rid of disease! ? Suddenly, you feel a warm current gushing from your heart. In an instant, it warms your whole body.
I remember once, you forgot one thing and called your father anxiously. His father seemed to have received a reply from his superiors. I remember it was so cold that you almost moved home. It was my mother who brought you steaming sparerib soup. I remember that you got up late that day and finally arrived at the station, only to find that the bus had just left and was about to wait for the next bus. You see the aunt who sells tickets sticking out of the window and waving with a smile. That is the sound of eternal happiness. Happiness, where, leave a voice?
Happiness is a string of sweat drops, but also the comfort of wiping them; Happiness is dedication and liberation after dedication; Happiness is growth, and it is also a bumpy footprint on the road to growth.
The world is quiet, the noise is trapped, and happiness calls everyone's name. I am carrying a schoolbag, walking on the tree-lined path of youth, humming my inner voice. Youth is silent, writing happiness silently.
Listen to the sound of the hourglass. I often like to play with the hourglass and watch the colored sand in the glass bottle fall slowly, making a rustling sound. It's like feeling time is slipping away.
? Sasha Vujacic
? Sasha Vujacic
This is the voice of time, the footsteps of years. It turns today into yesterday, and tomorrow into today, always in a hurry. But I always can't see the time clearly. He turned upside down, as if he would come back in the past, but now he doesn't know where to go. A new beginning has disrupted my time.
? Hello, I'm Joe! ? On the first day of school, my classmates greeted me warmly. I didn't react immediately. I heard the sound of an hourglass.
? Sasha Vujacic
? Sasha Vujacic
As if someone had turned the clock, the strange face suddenly became familiar. ? Xiao Si! ? I exclaimed. ? Do you mean your name is Xiao Si? Joe asked with a smile. One sentence brought me back to reality. ? Oh, sorry, my name is Xiaoxue. Nice to meet you. You are the first person I know in my class. ? I'm so confused. It's already the first grade. Why do I still think of my former classmates? I shook my head secretly and chatted with my classmates around me.
After a while, a kind teacher came in. My name is Liu, and I will be your future Chinese teacher? ..？
? Sasha Vujacic
? Sasha Vujacic
That's it again. I seem to see that chubby primary school Chinese teacher lecturing on the podium. Her long curly hair trembled and she read it with a slight Shaanxi dialect accent? Jun asked that the return date was inappropriate, and it rained at night in the autumn pool? ..？ The blue floral skirt I often wear seems to be still shaking. ? Wu Xiaoxue, please introduce yourself. ? At present, the chubby Chinese teacher disappeared, only a teacher with short hair and slim figure stood in front of me, and I quickly stood up. ? Take it easy. ? There was a soft mezzo-soprano in my ear. I began to introduce myself, still thinking about what just happened.
Which is the magic of time.
Is the past and the present intertwined, making me reluctant to part with the past?
Gradually, everyone knows each other. Occasionally, I will become speechless and return to the past in my memory. What I remember most is that the monitor announced a new student number.
? 1, Xiao Yuzuo, No.2? I was shocked to hear that. Listen, the sound of an hourglass.
? Sasha Vujacic
? Sasha Vujacic
I remember everyone's student number before, and familiar faces flashed through my mind again and again. Everyone smiled and said to little H? Xiao W, I remember your student number is 120, ambulance. ? I'm laughing, too? Isn't your student number more interesting, number 38? Haha, what nickname are you laughing at? Radish? Our little T is here, and O is here. Let's laugh together.
Then, I seemed to wake up from the dream mirror and come to my senses.
Since then, I have never seen the magic of time, perhaps because I am used to the present life and don't think about the past.
Accustomed to the bumps and crowds on the bus;
Accustomed to the spectacular dining hall when eating;
Accustomed to eye-catching school uniforms;
be accustomed to
Wait, listen-? Sasha vujacic? .
Listening to half-proposition composition 4: It was a morning listening to spring. I heard a long-lost bird song. I don't know what bird it is, but I'm sure it's singing something, or it has something to do with spring. I have never heard such a song for a long time. For a long time, I have never been so idle in bed listening. One or more birds are singing at my window. That's a wonderful thing. It seems that the joy and thoughts that have been hidden for many years have been dragged out by a bird. I think this is a real listening. All external things, time and thoughts can remain in my heart for a long time in the form of sound. At that moment, I smiled and satisfied.
It's not really long, but I think it's long. It's actually just an ordinary morning, but I feel I have some unusual feelings. It was spring. Yes, in spring. I feel the sound and smell of spring, just like running water. It seems that I have been waiting for a long time, and I seem to be unprepared. It just came. Its arrival made my eyes a little moist inadvertently. I must have remembered someone or something I haven't seen for a long time. What does this have to do with spring? However, they clearly appear in the warm spring day and in the endless spring rain. I walked over, into the warm sunshine, and then into the misty spring rain. Go straight ahead, it may be a long-lost touch in my heart. I picked up the thin shadows in the warm sunshine, and I held up the scattered raindrops in the sky, as if turning over previous lives.
How long is it? How many days have passed silently? Maybe it's just imagination, maybe it's not. I often sit still, watching time walk past me with dexterous steps, feeling empty and lost. The night belongs to me alone. Only in the deepest night can I find my deepest self. A person's time, loneliness, missing, even boring, seems to be very full and inflated. They occupy my space indefinitely, starting with a room and then the whole night. I'm talking about spring. I think I didn't leave, maybe because I didn't try to go out. I remember going out on a cold day. I think it was very cold that day, so cold that it was not even like spring. However, when I turned a corner, I suddenly saw peach blossoms blooming from one tree to another in the cold wind. Like fire. Full of power. I think I was deeply attracted. I am close to the peach blossom of that tree, just like I have been waiting for love for many years. How can there be such a dazzling color? At that moment, I seemed to hear the sound of branches and leaves and flowers stretching hard, which quickly enriched my emptiness. I think it must be the sound of spring. There is no doubt that it is wonderful. See things in a blur
I try my best to imagine every corner of spring, flowers, birds and breeze, like a string of beautiful poems and whispers, disturbing my thoughts. I felt like a spring at that moment. Yes, my heart is like a spring. You don't need to be deep or rushing, but your heart is clear and affectionate. I haven't expressed such feelings for a long time and have written such words. Is it because spring is always a little late and short in my heart? I feel as if I can't find the exact words to describe my heart. In the past long days, I have been ups and downs, and my heart is exhausted. Some people have things I don't want to write. Or, it's a secret. The secret of this spring. Or, I'm just trying to talk to this spring with my heart in this kind of listening. I'm talking about spring. Spring is coming, and peach blossoms are blooming. Will there be different expectations?
Yes, spring has come, but it will pass eventually. In fact, I don't want my heart to be stationed for only one spring for a long time. I hope my mind will change in four seasons. Or it will be closer to my inner truth. Prosperity or bleakness, blooming or withering, four seasons cycle, ups and downs, are full of traces of life. I am willing to listen to them bit by bit, just like listening to me all my life.
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