Listening to the echoes in the alleys, I fall into reflection on life. Below I have brought you a 600-word essay on listening to the echoes. You are welcome to read it. I hope it can help you with your writing. Chapter 1: Listening to the echo
Life is always noisy, the world is always noisy, we tell the silence of history, we complain about the silence of the sky... However, we do not know that the voice of history is always there Echoing between heaven and earth, the whisper of heaven is always lingering in our ears, but our ears cannot hear it.
China is a country that has gone through vicissitudes of life. Thousands of years of civilization have created the Chinese nation. We once had the most advanced technology, we once had the vastest land, and we once had the most prosperous streets... But history is still there. Cry for us and lament for the raging war ignited on the Chinese land! The Eight-Power Allied Forces invaded Beijing, the Old Summer Palace was destroyed, and Japan invaded China for more than ten years... The beautiful land of China was divided into pieces. History has issued the deepest cry: "Work hard, sons and daughters of China! If you fall behind, you will be beaten, and the tragedy must not be repeated!" Yes, China has suffered a lot. If we don't cheer up, it will be really sad!
People have sighed and said: "If the sky is sentimental, it will also be old, so the sky is speechless and merciless." When he failed in the imperial examination, the examinee pointed to the sky and cursed: "The sky has no eyes!" Then he went straight to hell. Love is hard to gather, so he shouted to the sky: "The sky is merciless!" Then he turned into two butterflies. When his ambition was not fulfilled, he couldn't help but look up to the sky and sigh: "It's God's fault that he wants to kill me!" So he sacrificed his life for righteousness. Listen quietly, the sky is complaining: "It is not my fault, it is the fault of you ordinary people! The reason why the candidates failed the exam is because they studied too little and were born at the wrong time. It is difficult to get together with love, because they have feudal ideas and are ignorant. Their ambitions have not been fulfilled. , I blame him for not having great talents and strategies, and his skills are not as good as others, how can I blame them all on me? "Yes, how can I blame everyone for the ups and downs in life? A gentleman seeks for himself, a villain seeks for others!
In fact, everything in the world has its own language. It is not that we are deaf, but that we have become accustomed to the noise of the world and find it difficult to listen quietly. In fact, when we really calm down, we will hear another echo in our ears. Chapter 2: Listening to the Echoes
I have always liked this song: "I miss the past, always looking at things simply, not asking, not afraid, never tired..." Just listening to it makes me think back unconsciously. Once upon a time - that time that seemed to never leave but was no longer with me.
I don’t dare to recall the past, I’m afraid.
I'm afraid that those wind chime-like laughter will make me burst into tears; I'm afraid that those pebbles hidden in the candy box will make me stay where I am, not wanting to go any further. The almost forgotten good time of mine is like the cup of green tea in front of me. It looks to have the freshest color and smells the most refreshing fragrance. However, after taking a sip, I taste an indescribable bitterness that penetrates into my body. Go to your heart.
However, I can’t control myself.
I miss the clear river in front of my door. Every year on the night of July 30th, a whole street of people celebrates the birthday of Father Land. And that naughty hungry man has more than once put incense sticks on the foam to form a five-pointed star shape, gently placed them on the water, and let them drift with the gentle sound of water to the fantasy world full of colorful stones and colorful flowers. place. And that big river only remains in the past. Like my past, it can never go back to its past. I can only mourn it with a feeling called "melancholy".
I miss the lonely basketball court behind the wall of my house. Every autumn - every autumn when the cool breeze blows and the fallen leaves are flying, there is always a naughty child who clumsily climbs up a short osmanthus tree, breaks off a few branches covered with osmanthus flowers, and then jumps down , ran home happily as if he had found a treasure.
You can always see this scene every evening when it is not raining: a little girl with braids holding an old basketball in her fleshy hands. She threw it upwards with both hands, and it brushed against the rusty and crumbling basket frame, hit the concrete floor hard, bounced up again, and fell down. Snap, snap, snap... Slowly stop. The piece of osmanthus scattered on the ground, the heavy cart, and the little girl who was concentrating on blowing dandelion tips slowly disappeared from my sight, and stayed in the corner of my memory together with the cowhide basketball.
I used to be obsessed with taking pictures and recording—perhaps I still am now—just to leave some fragments in my memory that I can savor in my spare time. But it’s just limited to memories, isn’t it? People always have to move forward, no matter how reluctant they are to let go of the things in front of them, in the end they still have to say goodbye to them - maybe we can see them again, maybe we will never see them again.
The so-called helplessness.
So, let’s go, take the memory with you, but when your heart calms down, please don’t forget to listen to the echo. Chapter Three: Listening to the Echo
Wandering in the gentle and graceful streets of Jiangnan Town, the gray sky is filled with fine raindrops, falling on the moist soil, and the river is filled with waves. In a circle of endless ripples, the awning boat floats quietly, filled with the wet wishes of people in the south of the Yangtze River. By chance, he walked into an alley, which was long and far away. He suddenly thought of Dai Wangshu's "Rain Alley" and wondered whether he would meet a lilac-like woman in such a rainy alley. Suddenly I remembered that there were alleys like this in my hometown.
The alleys in my hometown are not as light and lively as the alleys in Jiangnan, but more calm and solemn. They are not as twists and turns as the alleys in Jiangnan, but straight and formal, just like those of northerners. Temperament, bold and uninhibited. It’s just that they are equally long, where do they lead? Is it the atrium of a wanderer?
My first feelings about the world sprouted in the alleys of my hometown. When I was four or five years old, I would take a piece of chalk and scribble on the walls on both sides of the alley, drawing the world in a child's eyes. The adults smiled and shook their heads, but I enjoyed it, pursuing the world hidden in the light and shadow.
My understanding of life is also due to the alleys of my hometown. On a clear summer evening, I would move a small horse and sit quietly in the alley, smelling the strong ancient atmosphere emanating from the alley, and watching the smoke from the kitchen slowly blending into the blue sky, more like a light ink painting. Occasionally, I would walk down the alley, gently touching the floor tiles that have been polished smooth by time with my feet, and quietly touching the walls that have been weathered by time with my hands. At that moment, my heart was filled with ancient fantasies. Life becomes clear at the end of the alley.
An alley also made me realize the beauty of humanity. On a fresh morning, I ran to open the courtyard door. I happened to meet Uncle Zhang from the opposite door and came to open the door. They looked at each other and smiled, saying good morning to each other. The day would be very warm. During the holidays, every family hung up a pair of bright red flowers. The lanterns were dazzlingly red, reflecting the quaint alley. At this time, you give me a pear, and I give you some plums, and everyone laughs and chats. At this time, the sweet laughter echoes over the alley, and it refuses to disperse for a long time.
In the alley of my hometown, you are the origin of my character, and you are my eternal treasure! Hometown, even though I have traveled through thousands of rivers and mountains in my life, I will never leave your arms. I am in your sight, and I am in your voyage!
Only then did I understand the feeling of a wanderer missing his hometown. "Where is the hometown gate at dusk? The Yanbo River makes people sad." My hometown will always be the support and destination of my soul. Birds miss the old forest, fish miss the old abyss, horses follow the north wind, foxes must head down the hill when they die, trees are thousands of feet high, and fallen leaves return to their roots. The farther we are from our hometown, the deeper we miss our hometown. This longing stings our heart, and the longer it lasts, the harder it is to heal.
After being away from my hometown for a long time, the memory of my hometown will become blurred. On a bright day, think about your hometown, where you have your tears and laughter, and where you have your roots.
Just like me now, listening to the echo of the alley...