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"I watched an oriole fly into the warm air, and the clear light turned into green duckweed." Once upon a time, the air was filled with smoke, and a scream woke up the world. The sky is still immersed in blue, and the telephone poles are full of chattering sparrows. As the saying goes, the early bird catches the worm, so what about those of us who are still curled up under the covers? Time will slip away from our feet again, just like the story repeats itself. However, we are not like Zhu Ziqing's In a hurry. We don't want to stick our little heads out of the warm bed until the sun comes out. We always hear people around us always say "I have lost another hair" and "the wrinkles on my face are deeper". When we find out that time is a thief, it has stolen everything from us. We can't let time slip through our fingers. I want to hold the hand of time.
"The mountain light in the west suddenly disappeared, and a bright moon slowly rose on the lake in the east." Overnight, the east rose and the west set. In the replacement of the sun and the moon, the days pass by day, and we can't say, "Although it is still as dark as silk in the morning, it turns into snow at night." Desolation is boundless and endless. "It's still raining." Loneliness. The sun sets, followed by a long and endless cycle of night. "The night gave me black eyes, but I used them to look for light. A sigh is to sigh that you are really old, or to sigh that you have not cherished your time. " An inch of time is an inch of gold. "Since ancient times, we have been warned to cherish time. It turns out that we have nothing but time. At the ferry of time, we are all passers-by, and time is too short. This time I want to hold your hand.
"Shallow painting eyebrows in the mirror, deep worship Lou Xiyue." Once upon a time, looking at yourself in the mirror was really different from before. Do you feel that the pale sideburns are becoming more and more obvious in the years? We can't squander our youth like those young people. Our youth should be placed in a high ivory tower. Sometimes, I may go to the attic alone and see the moonlight shining from that window. I seem to be able to clearly see the traces carved by time on that window. Is it like the song "Time and time, slow down, don't let you get old ..." Can you cherish time and cherish every inch of time? When we look at the world through the old window, we can understand why old people always tell us to cherish time. This time, I will hold the hand of time and never let go.
Time, fleeting, wanders endlessly like quicksand. I want to hold the hand of time, even if you are a fleeting fireworks.
I want to hold your hand. I want to hold your hand and bring you a little warmth with my hand.
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You are leaning against the dilapidated door alone, looking at the distance, thinking far away ... How many vicissitudes of the past are contained in your lonely eyes, telling you how much you miss your children and how lonely you are.
Your heart is calling, calling your children. Your heart has called your child's name countless times, but your child can't hear it. Your heart is telling, telling your Y thoughts, your loneliness, your loneliness. You live alone, and you are unhappy. You have never laughed, let alone laughed happily.
How I want to walk over, hold your hand and bring you some warmth with my hand-an old man living alone.
You are like a wounded chicken, licking the wound painfully in a dark corner. Your helpless and sad eyes are dialysis of your sadness. You hate the coldness of the world, the cruelty of reality and the helplessness of facts.
You gratefully accepted the leftovers given to you by others and wolfed them down, as if forgetting the pain all over. Just now, innocent you were beaten by a group of social youths, and your fist fell mercilessly on you. You curled up in that corner, unable to call for help from the bottom of your heart, but in exchange for ruthless destruction.
How I want to walk over, hold your hand and bring you a little warmth with my hand-lonely little beggar.
You stand alone in the distance, watching a large group of children playing in the distance, watching them happy, and your eyes are full of envy and longing.
Your heart is talking, and you want to tell them from your heart that you want to play with them. But what you get is a large group of children laughing at you, and their parents are holding their children and pointing at you. Because your clothes are torn and dirty, they reject you, hate you and despise you. You don't hum, just look at you from a distance.
How I want to walk over, hold your hand and bring you a little warmth with my hand-the children of migrant workers.
I want to hold your hand. If I can devote myself to the long river of history, I would like to return to the Southern Song Dynasty and keep the brightest light of that era-Yue Fei. I want to hold your hand and try my best not to let you go south.
I want to hold your cold hand and melt your rock-solid determination. I want to listen to your speech. I have never regretted it along the way, and I have never thought about retreating. I will understand your "passion", your "anger", your "who broke the string" pain and your "empty sadness". Therefore, I will not let go, I want to tell you that the culprit of all this is in the south, and the realization of recovery and revitalization is in the north, and progress is your direction! I hope you can slow down your horse, overlook the direction of your old capital in the flying sand, gain strength from my hot hands, listen to your inner call and return to the battlefield.
Even if there are contradictions, there will be no turning back. This is a fact.
Then I will hold your hand harder and take you north through the dimension of space. Fighting, rivers of blood, leaving their homes and starving everywhere ... the Han people in trouble need the horn of liberation! As long as you arrive, Confucius is full of liberated body and soul. When everyone is shouting "Great Song" in their hearts, it is time to get rid of the shame of Jingkang. Then in the south, Lin 'an, a group of singing and dancing, feasting. I want to show you the stench behind this whitewashing of peace and the hidden crisis of national subjugation behind this peace. I hope you can compare two places, one is waiting for your visit, and the other will be your last visit. Which one is worth going? I hope you can wake up, realize where you belong, and then pick up war spear again to vent your hatred and pain.
Even in pain, your steps are still south, which is a fact.
I won't let go. I will take you through the dimension of time, come to the peaceful and prosperous times in the long river of history, take you to the ideal country and tell you the real road trip. At that time, the government and the people were harmonious, the neighbors were blind, the culture was prosperous and the economy was prosperous; The wind of honesty prevails, the power of culture and the rule of law haunts the society, and the seeds of freedom and democracy thrive ... I hope you understand that this is your dream and the meaning of loyalty to the country. I hope you will resist fatuous laws, bid farewell to your stupid loyalty and fight for your beliefs!
But you won't. That's the truth.
I want to hold your hand. I wish I could change you, but I can't. Maybe you have thought about everything I said and walked south with a smile, where you turned to dust.
Then, I will finally let go, just holding a regretless smile. ...
I want to hold your hand. Prose 4: "Searching, lonely and sad." Recite it gently, the poem slips to my lips, and the sound of history is still the same, but I only met you-Li Qingzhao. In the long river of time, the beauty is shocking. At that moment, I wanted to hold your hand and walk with you. Young and carefree time, rippling with simple and green waves. How pure and beautiful it is to "fight for the ferry, fight for the ferry, and start the gull and heron pond". How did you grow up in a scholarly family without a trace of dust, like a pearl carefully cared for by shells? At the moment, you and I are about the same age. If we hold your hand, can we share the beautiful years and listen to the old together?
Suddenly, you grew up and fell in love with a bang, and now you are a wife. Zhao Mingcheng and you are a match made in heaven, just like killing two birds with Qi Fei. Who knows, I haven't had time to enjoy singing with my beloved, and my study of epigraphy has not been completed, but he left, leaving you alone in the empty boudoir. "Who sent the brocade book in the cloud? When the wild goose returns, the moon is full in the west wing. Flowers from Shui Piao to water, one kind of lovesickness, two places of leisure. There is no way to eliminate this situation. You can only frown and take it to heart. " On the day of parting, I can imagine that you have been miserable for many years and your heart is desolate. Let me hold your hand, give you strength and convey your warmth.
Born in troubled times, the empire declined. The invasion of foreign enemies and the peace of the imperial court have not spared you. I thought you would go with the flow and flee to other places, but who ever thought that your weak body stood up with a tough backbone-"life is a hero, death is a ghost." I still think of Xiang Yu and refuse to cross Jiangdong. "Just an ordinary family woman, but so heroic, can't help but make people deeply grieved, far better than those men with strong hair and beard. Always cherish the country and the world, always hold your head high and never be afraid, and always maintain the backbone of the Chinese nation. I want to hold your hand and take the baton of history. I will, like you, undertake the mission and responsibility to pass on the national spirit we call the Chinese soul from generation to generation.
I think life is like this. The innocent age of youth belongs to me. I couldn't help falling in love when I was young. In my prime, I should shoulder the burden of national rejuvenation and truly become a social person. You taught me all these things, with your legendary life, with your unyielding soul, with your simplicity, perseverance and responsibility.
I want to hold your hand and never let go, let me get close to you and let you infect me.
I want to hold your hand. Every time you hold my hand, no, it should be tightly held, from chrysanthemum fragrance to spring flowers, from acquaintance to acquaintance. Although every "handshake" is so short, you have given me unprecedented happiness with this fragmentary time!
As the saying goes, the grace of dripping water is rewarded by the spring! So looking at you on the podium and studying at your desk, I always have an impulse to hold your hand and say thank you gently! Thank you for your rigorous academic attitude and hard work. ...
Some people naturally say that this is the duty of a teacher. Indeed, this is not a great cause, but there is another reason for my impulse, and that is, as mentioned at the beginning, you have given me unprecedented happiness and sweetness!
I still remember that when we first met on September 3rd, you gently pulled me into that lovely class group. From then on, when I went to school, I always had an expectation, looking forward to the encounter at the school gate. Because in those few short minutes, you will ask me if I have recited any words, praise my proficiency in reciting texts, and show me the charm of your beautiful skirt ... In short, you and I seem to have endless topics. You let me feel the beauty of communication for the first time!
I can't forget that every Thursday afternoon, in physical education class, we can always stroll on the playground and talk about friendship. I told you frankly about my heavy schoolwork and my inner loneliness. You gave me countless warm promises: "I am willing to be your listener." I am your most loyal partner ... "
Finally, another Thursday afternoon ushered in our "good time". When you talked to me about class management, you said, "I hope all the students in our class are as well managed as you are!" They never seem to grow up! " After listening to it, I sighed and said to you, "Actually ... Actually ..." You see, I want to say it for a long time and repeatedly ask, "What is it?" I said cautiously, "I don't want to grow up either. I want to call you sister because I'm afraid of being rude."
Unexpectedly, your smile is as bright as a flower. Tell me that you had this intention long ago and urge me to call "Sister Yun" at once.
These stories, which you are busy reading, may have been forgotten for a long time, but they are insignificant to you who have many bosom friends. However, for a girl who has been tortured by illness for 17 years, for a peach and plum who has been accompanied by hospital and surgery since childhood, and for the life of a sister who has countless tastes and ambitions at home, all this is too precious! Precious enough to make her cry silently every time she thinks about it, it will be like a dream!
So, today I want to tell Bai Xuan my little wish: to hold your hand and silently convey a concern and blessing. Because walking together is fate, walking together is happiness! I wish you happiness forever!
I want to hold your hand. Dad called. The old house will be demolished tomorrow. Let me take two photos as a souvenir.
Grandma built the old house brick by brick. Fifty-six years ago, she moved her family from Yunnan to here. Since then, we have a home here.
I just got off the bus and saw a lot of people around the door. Almost all the old ladies and men in the village came and whispered something. There is something wrong with the atmosphere. I was wondering when I suddenly saw my grandmother lying in bed with a black and blue forehead. One eye is completely swollen into a green peach, and the other eye is narrowed into a line.
Oh, my God, what happened? How did it suddenly become like this?
Dad said grandma fell down and hit the threshold this morning. The part around her eyes was badly hit, but luckily she didn't hurt her eyes.
At this time, she was lying in bed, curled up like a thin baby.
My heart hurts. Go to the hospital at once. Check it right away.
The car drove very fast on the road, and before she got to the hospital, grandma couldn't hold on to motion sickness. I forgot that she was an old man in her seventies. What a fool! Pat her on the back and watch her vomit in pain. There is nothing I can do about it.
How can you be so careless? She was badly hurt, but you drove so fast that you forgot that she was carsick.
Registration, queuing, filming, grandma held my hand tightly like a child and snuggled up to me. When I led her downstairs, she was a little scared and her legs and feet trembled. "Don't be afraid, grandma. I'll take a step and you'll follow me." She nodded and shook my hand obediently.
When I was a child, I held her hand.
I remember going home once a month in high school. When you go back to school, you must take the earliest bus in town. This means I have to get up early and walk on muddy roads for more than an hour. In winter, you have to spend a dark night. It doesn't matter, mainly because the roads are deserted and wild dogs are everywhere. They are rampant in the dark, and they are all my bane. So every time I go back to school, my grandmother is not at ease. She must personally take me to the town to get on the bus before she leaves.
But that winter night, I left home quietly with a stick in my hand. After all, such a big person can't always live under grandma's protection.
Dogs' eyes are very sharp at night. Along the way, dogs barked one after another, from one hill to another, which was deafening. The stick in his hand is sweaty. At this time, I am most afraid of paparazzi team siege. Once surrounded by them, it is really doomed.
I really come when I'm scared. At this time, a big dog was attracted by the light of my flashlight and approached me step by step. Faint blue eyes are emitting dense white light in the dark night. What's more frightening is that more dogs are approaching me. They bared their teeth, barked and bit. A stick doesn't seem to work, hands are shaking, and I want to have a drink, overwhelming them in momentum. But when I opened my mouth, I couldn't speak, and my sweat was desperately rising. Shit, I don't know where I lost my stick. The paparazzi are pressing hard, and I am surrounded in the middle. I can't escape. Extreme fear, I closed my eyes and was about to cry.
At this time, the dog was frightened by a loud drink. Looking up, grandma was holding a flashlight and a whip in her hand, barking wildly at the dog. She is a world hero, and her thin figure contains infinite power.
Tears welled up and I couldn't speak, only "whoops …"
That night, grandma kept holding my hand and walked from night to dawn to send me to town. There were layers of cold sweat on her palms, all of which were warmed by her warm big hands. In her hands, I am a child who will never grow up.
Today, her hands are covered with calluses and wrinkled skin, thin and covered with age spots. The middle finger and forefinger even bend and curl up into a small ball with other fingers. Holding it in my young and thick hand is like holding a fragile walnut.
Life is so fragile, I'm afraid that one day I can't hold these hands anymore.
Time passes slowly, this life, let me hold her hand well!
365 Extreme Challenge Camp? Day 102
I'm glad I didn't witness the demolition. If I did, it would be heartbreaking.
I want to hold your hand. Prose 7 A pair of hard hands are waving a sickle.
Open the prelude to cutting fields,
The relentless autumn wind is still whistling,
Draw a series of bright red wounds,
The back of the hand began to dry and rough slowly,
It looks cool at night,
The cold evening breeze blew in his face.
He's still strong,
The silence of the night, his ignorance,
Leaving people with more sadness,
I want to hold your hand,
My hands are willing to pay for me,
After the vicissitudes of the world,
Suffering from human suffering,
It's particularly heavy.
Human feelings,
Love in the world,
All pinned on it,
I don't want to expect too much,
Just want to get a hug from it.
Looking up at the stars,
The stars twinkle,
A lonely night,
Wandering alone,
I want to hold your hand,
Even if there is only a trace of residual temperature.
Can also drive away my loneliness and loneliness,
I want to hold your hand.
Even a short contact for a second,
I firmly believe that,
It can take me into the paradise of happiness.
I want to hold your hand. What kind of hand is that?
Petite but full of cracks. I weighed the hoe, grabbed the glass ball, carried the begging porcelain bowl, and took the pencil tip given by others. Why have the years changed so much in the past ten years, and why should we care for these little hands that should be holding textbooks?
I want to hold your hand, raise your sticky little hand, take you to see the flowers of the motherland, play the piano, operate the motor, move the mouse, point at my uncle's nose and swear, take you to see the world and see if it lives in your dream. When you hold the long pencil tips that we collected with those small hands, when you kneel on the floor and work hard with the last lead, I want to hold your hand and tell you that they are still there.
When you hand me a piece of paper with a simple picture and say "for you", when I see a light-colored crayon, when I see the crooked "Happy holidays to my dear teacher", when I see the members who are going with me holding the gifts you sent me, I want to hold your hand, give me a clumsy deep kiss, wipe away the tears that I dropped on the back of your hand, and then tell you that you have artistic talent.
When you sparkle with clear eyes, when you calmly tell about the financial difficulties of your family after your mother's death, when you reluctantly express your nostalgia for the campus, when you say that your father has to stay away from home and just went to Zuoyun Coal Mine for a week ... I thought the cruel reality had numb your sad instinct. Unexpectedly, at this time, you still choked and buried your head and shook your thin shoulders. How I want to hold your hand, say nothing and do nothing, just hold your hand like that, warm your palm and give you some strength.
Kid! When you kneel on the bustling street, when you spread out a certificate of suspension with those helpless little hands, when you take out a dirty foreign porcelain bowl from your worn-out schoolbag, when you bury your face and wait for something, my child, I want to come forward and hold your hand. I want to take you running in the crowd. I would rather take you to the depths of the mountains, take you to a ventilated classroom, take you to a cold bench, and take you to find it. How can I tell you that everyone passing by you is in a hurry? What they care about is that someone burned the car and gave birth to a child. What they care about is that someone sings and someone votes for the champion. They are concerned about plagiarism and default in litigation. They care that someone spends money to fry literary rubbish. They can't see you, and even if they see you, they won't stay. They have told each other that all the people kneeling on the roadside are liars. Although they are willing to be cheated by big-name directors, young writers and health care products merchants, they are worried about being cheated by even one tenth of beggars. So, son, let me hold your hand and take you away from this noisy crowd. Your knee must hurt.
I want to hold your hand and smooth the cracks like dry branches and leaves on the rough and cracked land. However, when I lowered my head and opened my arms, you were gone. You followed your mother's back and father's footsteps and chose the same road as they did more than 30 years ago. No, I know you can't choose. You are pushed, you are dragged, and you are interested in the near future and the farthest world. As a father, you will never dream again.
So, I want to hold your hand, walk together and escape together! However, when I looked up and looked around, there were 2.3 million pairs of small hands, 2.3 million small hands full of cracks, and 2.3 million vivid figures struggling in vicissitudes. I choose with this down-and-out life, and I don't know which hands to hold. At the same time, I safely left all the forgotten little hands waving hope behind me.
How I want to hold your hand. I don't want to look at you like this. It's no use. I just shed tears all my life. At this moment, I can't stop flowing ...