The ground stalls, even once was considered a symbol and representative of a city fireworks.
With the strict management of the city, stalls once disappeared in the city, and even in my small city of five or six lines, only in the outskirts of the city can see a few stalls or push a cart to sell vegetables, or roadside vans to sell car wipers, cushions, everywhere a piece of television only have a high scene, clean, neat, like a pool of spring water, no waves, but feel a little bit of a rejection of people outside the door, always feel with their own lives. Outside, always feel disconnected from their own lives, just like barbecue in the house to eat, never in the roadside to eat meat, drink big mouth kind of jianghu feeling.
"Give me a cheap point ah"
"Not cheap even if"
"Really have not seen so will cut prices"
"Count da, count da, you take it"
Such a bridge, such a human fireworks, such a stall, but also constitute the small beauty of our lives, will greatly stimulate the economic vitality, stirring the originally calm pool of spring water.
Listening to the song, their thoughts are accompanied by the song, inadvertently, as if drilling into the tunnel of time and space, the scene of the childhood stalls appear in front of us, really want to stay in the time and space of the tunnel, and will always experience those innocent and simple happiness, when the music points to the last scale, I just repent: it was so fast to the end!
The night is getting deeper and deeper, I like in each late night, rushing a cup of refreshing honey, perhaps Changbai Mountain linden honey, perhaps Shaanxi date honey, tasting the refreshing honey fragrance, borrowing a favorite article, recalling the past bits and pieces of the ...... darkness of the night covered a silent world, even the stars in the sky are getting more and more The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not sure I can do this. The years are silent, the seasons in the alternation of the continuous cycle, but changed the world, we do not realize in an invisible atmosphere gradually grow up. Time flies, some old things, in my heart, gradually is carved a mark to, or deep or shallow, as the rain hit the ripples on the water, layers and layers. The people and things, after years of precipitation, also seems more and more valuable, become the unrepeatable classic of memory.
The years are silent, many days like the tide over the feet, after the retreat, no marks.
Standing quietly in front of the window to listen to the sound of the years slipping by, only to hear the sound of cars speeding by on the road downstairs, knowing that time in a little bit forward. Quietly walked through the years, like fish out of the water surface breathing, no sound, the river but swung a circle of ripples; like the rainbow after the rain, no sound, the sky but left a landscape; also like flowers and grasses to break the ground, no sound, the earth but offered a piece of new green. Memories are like fish in the water, fishing for it, but can not fish out of the water brought up by ripples ......
The years are silent, the alternation of night and day is so clear, the cup of honey fragrance permeates the entire room, quietly gazing at the night sky, looking for traces of time, it seems that from the distant space and time, whispered bursts of whispers ......
The years are silent, are coming and going years. Inadvertently years flow silently around, through trials and tribulations learned to endure, all kinds of less than desired after learning to be silent. All the years, such as between the fingers of the quicksand, slowly sliding down, Xu Xu drifting away, without leaving traces.
The years are silent, is the moment walking elves. Years like a calm lake, reflecting the sun, moon and stars, witnessed once all. Years is the most powerful director of our time and space, scolding the wind and clouds, the center of the times mercilessly wheeled back, looking back, all traces of ......
The years are silent, is skimming over the dust of the walker. Years of craftsmen in the carving of history, years of singers in the chanting of the years. In the face of the change of things, the Qin Guan Han Yue, the natural metabolism of the personnel of the ancient times, when we try to figure out the life of the old mussels, chrysalis into butterflies, ten thousand trickle into the river and other rules of life, ordinary life through the pain and suffering and the years of struggle and the weaving of the splendor of the end of the year is precisely the end of the years of the proof of the fixed frame!
The playfulness of the universe is manifested in the dance of the stars in the sky, and life is a process that sadly does not allow for a do-over, and happily it does not need a do-over! This may be a process of our life, frankly face, there will be more than one frank; calmly deal with, and there will be more than one calm, perhaps this is considered mature, this is a little bit of my harvest.