After drinking the last cup of weak tea during the holiday, time came to urge me to hit the road again. After two months of playing, I suddenly realized that time flies so fast and completely. Time draws fine wrinkles on our foreheads, shatters the beauty of childhood joy, and changes a person from being kind to forgetting his principles and friends. I lamented the past year of high school life, lamented the inaction, and lamented the bleak future. I was in a daze when I was suddenly woken up by Father Time's pipe: Let's go! It's time to hit the road.
Time seems to be always fair. How much you waste will be how much blank space you leave in the long road of life. But, if you look closely, isn't the blank space of the years the same as the artistic conception of fishing alone in the cold river, which is a kind of art? Zhang Dai used the reign name of Chongzhen and was leisurely reminiscing about what? The sky and water are the same color, except for a little bit on the lake. I envy the boat going to the pavilion in the middle of the lake alone. What a beautiful scene, but now I can only reminisce about it. Another example is Su Shi, who rose from Kyoto to local officials as an official, and moved from the cold north to the distant Hainan Island. In the end, he lived a life of mist and rain! I like the ancients' feeling of retreat. Heaven and earth are the inns of all things, and time is just a passerby from the past to the present. The blank space here is our thinking about life. Looking at Zhang Dai, after the Qing Dynasty came to power and the state was overthrown, he fled to the mountains and lived in the mountains. All he had left was a broken bed, a few broken books, and an inkstone missing. Living in ordinary clothes and often without food, he stood by the West Lake and looked at everything that this time had brought. He integrated his infinite sorrow into his works in the second half of his life, such as "Night Sailing" and "Dream of the West Lake". "Xun" are all clear evidence; the same is true for Dongpo. They all take a break in the long river of time and savor life. Father Time listened to my story carefully, but without changing his expression, he pushed me into reality.
I got on the bus to school, and I did this for a year. A group of strangers sat huddled in silence. The tangy smell of gasoline covered up the lowered heads of complaint and the panic of the crowd. Time has left a clear mark on everyone, making every innocent person remain indifferent and unfamiliar during this brief encounter. I want to say, what have we all experienced? It seems to me that we have all been to school and have taken some important exams in life. The college student sitting in front of me, after experiencing the taste of the college entrance examination and spending time in an ideal or not ideal university, already shows the air of a working person. The children led by the adults next to them are still looking at everything with childishness. Their lives have just begun; those parents who have experienced an ordinary life ignore wrinkles and old friends and only place their hopes on them. in the next generation. As for me, a scholar with a short life, as a high school student, I have left many regrets and blanks. The blank space here is a reflection that cannot stop. We all had the same expression on our faces, anxious and helpless. I stretched my head toward the window. The car was speeding through the mountains and there would be several farmhouses passing by. The past is like the wind, whizzing by. I dwell on the past, or stupid things. I thought I had to work hard this semester. I failed in the high school entrance examination, which left me with a lot of regrets. As the car drove past the last bridge of the school, I touched the suitcase. At this time, I suddenly found that Father Time was waiting outside the car with a smile. He seemed to have slowed down. But it wasn't until I saw the senior high school students walking in a hurry that I realized: I was the one who quickened the pace.
I got out of the car and went straight to the campus. The quiet campus left the noise of cars and horses outside, and I was only inside. The freshmen in high school are waiting in line to pay fees, just like everyone else in the past. The senior high school seniors all walked towards the classroom with expressionless faces. Time flies by leisurely. It has been a year and I saw a new honor list. There is always someone at Victory Beach, and I am about to try to land. Without knowing the future, I know that the blank space here is a real regret. At this time, I saw Father Time pointing at me from a distance and saying loudly: Let’s go! It’s time to hit the road.