Essay, as the name suggests: a note, is a branch of prose, is a variant of thesis, both argumentative and lyrical two characteristics, usually short, in various forms, the author is accustomed to use a variety of rhetorical techniques to convey their own insights and emotions, the language of the dynamic, polite and ironic, is the past society is more popular in a literary style. As a literary style, the essay was created by the French essayist Montaigne. Follow me below to see the fish's memory is only seven seconds essay! I hope it will be helpful to you.
The Fish's Memory is Only Seven Seconds Essay Part 1
Little Bonsai asked: Will the fish be unhappy if it can only swim back and forth in the fish tank?
Xiaohui said: the fish's memory is only seven seconds. After swimming from this end of the tank to that end, it has forgotten what happened at this end, and every time it swims, it has a new feeling. You see, the fish swims so happily.
After hearing this, the little potty smiled. Fish fish fish fish fish swim in the water ......
Legend has it that fish have only seven seconds of memory. After seven seconds, the fish does not remember the past and everything becomes new again. The past life of the fish is in these seven seconds, and every second has the deepest emotion of the fish. In the small fish tank, the fish never feel bored, just seven seconds, swim through the place and become a new world.
The next second will remember what, the fish do not know. The next second will forget what, the fish do not know. Fish just enjoy the seven seconds, happy swimming. Stored happiness, forget the sadness, wear down the pain.
Sometimes, I would rather be a fish, and after seven seconds, forget everything, and start all over again. But I'm not a fish, so I can't forget the people I love and the people who love me, and I can't forget the happiness and bitterness of life. The only way is to cherish the moment, be the best you can be, and leave the best memories.
Fish walk through life with seven seconds, each seven seconds are fresh, savoring and growing. I wish I was a fish, to use all seven seconds to cherish the tenderness of the water, hand in hand with the companions to travel ......
Xiaohui also brought the netizen's insights, read it. All are people who value friendship and love life, how lovely!
That in the next life to be a fish, to be a person is too tired, should remember to remember, want to forget and can not forget! The more you want to forget, the more profound the memory!
Seven seconds of memory, the fish do not know for whom their tears flow, so should be happy or sad!
I want to become a fish, fish memory is only seven seconds, seven seconds later and can love you again, has been so like a fish love.
I envy the fish only seven seconds of memory, if the human brain and cell phone computers can be formatted like how good it is!
Will raise fish, will fish, is not enough. Read and write literature, eat a mouthful of spiritual food, twice as good!
The fish's memory is only seven seconds Essay Part 2
I always remember that someone said that the fish's only seven seconds.
Seven seconds of 'distance put me in a bit of a trance. And I believe more, just this seven seconds of memory is to set off the wisps of mourning. The impression that the fish's eyes accumulate dullness, perhaps, this animal really does not have vivid it. I'm glad I'm not a fish, at least I have several times more memories than seven full seconds. I am a very nostalgic person, but I like it when someone hastily interprets it as "the heart grows old". Those fragmented memories, on that afternoon, they flickered, and floated in the air with flecks of dust.
My thoughts are not too eccentric, and I do not like to deliberately forget anything, even if it is something that stings me. It's hard to catch a gap, sit down and go to those things that are only suitable for memory, and it's enough, really enough. The more I don't like to throw away certain things. For example, I can't throw away a book that is a mess of drawings. My unwillingness to do so, at this point in time, is just a few simple "don't like"? I am afraid that one day, in my side, even the old fragmentary notes are no longer, the pathos will fill the whole body, and the empty heart. If, people from the beginning in place are, people from the beginning to the end of the success, will be like a white wall, little by little faded. Thinking about this, I have more reason to forgive me for all the things I used to do. More often than not, I walk quietly on the road under the feet, looking back, has been hidden, I hope, I can pick flowers along the way, smelling the past fragrance forward. Indeed do not want to go to throw away the memory, but also can not bear to throw away, sentimental also, should leave something to honor this section of the journey it. In the heart of the flower room, they quietly wait for me, they may not be the story of what, but is indeed another form of me.
Like fish, people can not go to decide what. Fish or man, perhaps two different. When the fish spits bubbles, when its seven-second memory is worn out little by little, its mind is colorful or blank? Will it be covered with sadness? I don't want to go to the trouble of getting some overly ornate fairy tale. Perhaps in the mood of the season, just hope that everything is natural, everything is true.
If I were a fish, I would plead with God to give me back my real seven-second memory.
The fish's memory is only seven seconds Essay Part 3
The smile did not reach the bottom of the eyes, quietly look at the world suddenly feel tired, turned into a strand of floating on the lips of the thin cool.
I want to become a fish, look up and see the light blue, clear water ocean, across the light clear blue, looking to the cotton white clouds and blue sky, perhaps there will be white gulls swept, mast line, wind and waves rolled to the taste of light grass and sea salt, clean and cold, penetrating through the chest.
I heard the wind and sand and seawater into the sound of fluffy wind chimes, a burst of swiftly placed in the heart of the field, growing vines, open a flower of the spring breeze.
Quietly resting in the rocky reefs of the fine sandy beaches, illuminated by the golden rays of the sun, listening to the sound of shells and conch gently drifting to the ear, you are that mountain over? Are you from that shore? The sound of the shells gently calling, pulling up the thousands of thoughts of homesick people, hometown you, okay?
Close your eyes, open your arms, gently embracing the water wind and warm sun, all the things here, are pure white color and taste, like a book displayed in the library, the green branches of grass dew in the mist in the morning, pure and simple, warm and beautiful.
Rejoice in this quietness, pursuing the light as the sunrise, at ease, self-satisfied, free, natural, I am a fish that loves life.
If the fish's memory is only seven seconds, I just want to remember the color of the sea and the sky, and never forget the hope and the direction to move forward, the sea is my home, it grows my dream.
Standing barefoot on the beach, slowly close your eyes, tiptoe, gently leap, I became a fish vertical in the blue sea , cool and clear seawater will be the body gently submerged, from the eyes of the deep into the heart, assaulted, washed, pushed the surge and gently embraced me.
The sea is a clear blue transparent field, in the clear seawater lines, there are snow-white reefs, orange-red coral, floating dance of the pink jellyfish, fish and shrimp shuttle in the green seaweed, turtles wandering in the dolphin's embrace, the world of the sea is how beautiful, how mysterious.
When the twilight of the morning sunlight splashed on the surface of the water, looking at it as if the mercury flowed down the beads of light, layer by layer with a brilliant color, pushing and rubbing, blotting and dizzy, like a wave of illusion in the dream.
If the fish's memory is only seven seconds, I finally want to remember your face, and then look at you for the last second, remember your smile, the moonlight fell into your eyes, the starry river is your eyes, the falling flowers are your colors.
You are like the sea, with a gentle and deep blue, gently looking at me, quietly looking at me, quietly into, and quietly away, can not catch a piece of cloud, can not leave behind any light.
I am a lonely twilight wounded fish, butterfly wings gently blinking, hands gently embracing the body, huddled floating leaning in the sea water, teardrops soundless, colorless, and speechless......
Any flower drifting all, any wind falling, any story dissipated, you listen ah, I also have a shell belonging to me, it is softly chanting my thoughts and sadness, like the rain as cool as the night is generally fascinating, the soft wind quietly took it away, drifting to the end of the sea, that shore.
I have been infatuated with the fireworks in the red dust, wandering in the fog on the sea, and have seen the sharp claws and cruelty of the eagle, and the vicissitudes of the years and mother-in-law, "I do not know my soul, what color has been stained".
Is it black, is it white, is it red, or is it my favorite sea blue, magnificent thousands, changes thousands, the world has thousands of faces and thousands of colors, and my shadow, in the future, and in what place will be floating in the confusion, or not, will still be alone in chanting, alone I secluded.
The sea at night stained the pupils of my eyes, like ink, like the night, even if one day, I became black, I will still long for the heart of the spring flowers, chasing the sea where there is sunshine.
"I heard you have been here."
"So I came."
I'm a fish, a fish called Anon.