The rain died down and the light came in from behind the curtains. Open the window and have a look, ah! The clouds are gone, and the residual water droplets on the leaves reflect the moon, flashing and moving like a thousand fluorescent spots. -I didn't expect such a beautiful picture after the bitter rain!
Standing in front of the window for a while, I felt a little cold. When I turned around, I was dazzled, and everything else in the room was hidden in the light cloud; The faint light is only immersed in the angels in the paintings on the wall. -angels in white, holding flowers, holding wings, smiled at me.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere. When will I ... "I unconsciously sat under the window and thought quietly.
The closed heart curtain slowly opened, pouring out an impression of five years ago. A long ancient road. The mud under the donkey's feet is slippery. The water in the ditch gurgled. The green trees near the village are all caged in wet smoke. Bowed crescent moon, hanging in the treetops. Walking, there seems to be a child on the side of the road, holding a pile of white things. The donkey passed by with no intention of turning back. He smiled at me barefoot with flowers in his arms.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere!" I still want to-silently.
Another curtain of gravity appeared, which slowly opened and poured out the impression of ten years ago. -The rain under the thatched eaves dripped on the clothes. The blisters on the edge of the earth steps are turning. The wheat ridges and grape racks in front of the door are very bright yellow. -After a while, it finally cleared up and went downhill quickly. I saw the moon coming head-on from the sea, and suddenly remembered that I had forgotten something, stopped and turned around. The old woman in this small room-leaning against the door, holding flowers, smiled at me slightly. This same subtle expression, like a hairspring, flutters and mixes together.
At this time, it is refreshing and peaceful, such as going to the celestial world and returning to my hometown. San Xiao, who appeared in front of me, melted for a while and could not see the harmony of love for a while.
A 700-word essay, without any modification or carving, just touches and dyes at will, and outlines three pictures: an angel in a painting, a village girl by the roadside and an old woman in a hut, each holding a bunch of flowers.
There is no sound, only three pictures. Three white flowers set off a smile, sincere, pure and natural. However, in the silence, I clearly and vaguely heard a lyric music that gently turned around. The sound of the violin is endless, and people talk in a low voice, so that they unconsciously follow it into a quiet world and are deeply intoxicated. Looking intently, the sound of the piano came to an abrupt end. At the end of the song, there was only San Xiao, three white flowers and an ethereal one. There seems to be laughter in the ethereal world, so soft and sweet, filled with pure love.
So, you fell into an infinite reverie, and you saw the peace in front of you. "When I went to the fairyland, I returned to my hometown." In a trance, you find truth, goodness and beauty-the highest state that people pursue.
A 700-word essay, well written.
We always hope that there will be more beautiful essays in the prose garden. They bring us not only ideological enlightenment, spiritual purification, but also aesthetic enjoyment. They can experience the changes of time and space and the erosion of years, and remain in people's memory, occupying an indelible position in the history of prose. Unfortunately, in the past ten years, this beautiful style of writing has been rare, even rare.
Therefore, a typical beautiful article like Laughter is worth cherishing and savoring.
(Yuan Ying)