1. "My Hometown is Far Away" by Zhang Nanxiang
I always feel that I am a wanderer.
Over the past few decades, I have been drifting and wandering. I've traveled over fields and through cities, and I've been to many, many places.
Where do I come from? Where is my homeland, my hometown?
I do not know.
I left the city of Hangzhou when I was 19 years old. The glistening water and misty mountains of Xizi Lake were my birthplace. The Jiangnan town of Luoshe, a hundred miles by water from Hangzhou, was my grandmother's home.
However, I was only a visitor to Hangzhou, and my ancestry is in Xinhui, Guangdong. When I was 30 years old, I went back to my hometown in Guangdong with my parents.
There are emerald rivers, dense sugar cane forests, and the mysterious and secluded Banyan Island in my hometown. As the sun set, I saw the big-winged, long-necked white storks and gray storks circling back to their nests in a hurry, and the sky over the huge banyan forest was covered with the sound of birds. That is the world-famous Bird Paradise. Xinhui County world for the sunflower township, the river turquoise water waves, a string of slender boats full of fragrance filled with sunflower leaves, sinking against the water and traveling, leisurely away ......
But the old home in me, but no longer the feeling of the old garden. No one knows me, and I don't really know anyone. I can't even speak a complete and authentic dialect of my hometown. My father and I left home in the early years, as if we were banished outcasts, in the unfamiliar accent, blankly searching to identify the roots of this piece of land left to their own.
Dreams often appear to be the lotus ponds and lotus ponds in the south of the Yangtze River, spring green mulberry trees in the field of purple sweet mulberries, autumn golden bright pomelo, winter New Year's Day hanging all over the hall of the sauce meat dumplings, dried fish, and a pot of fragrant and fragrant boiled taro ......
Summer and winter vacations, the ride on the small fireboat to go to the town of Loshe Grandma's home. The town has a big stone bridge at the east end of the town. There is a big stone bridge at the east end of the town, and in the summer many bare-bottomed children jumped into the river from the bridge abutment, and the river was connected to the smoky Luoshe Ocean, and I used to pan the rice under the bridge, and the bamboo pans were wet from the water, and there was a small fish jumping on the pearly white rice.......
And Grandma had long since passed away. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get a good deal on a new one, but I'm sure you'll be able to get a good deal on a new one. In fact, Grandma is not authentic Zhejiang people. I heard that Grandma's ancestors are Jiangsu Danyang people, I do not know what year to move to Deqing Luoshe; I also heard that Luoshe's name is the early years of this place there was an immigrant from Luoyang, Luoyang, Luoyang people's house, called Luoshe. From this point of view, Grandma and Grandpa's ancestry is also difficult to verify, I am soulful of the town of Jiangnan, and what is my hometown?
So for my childhood born and grew up in Hangzhou City, there is a kind of hidden membrane and suspicion. Naturally, I like the West Lake's soft and indifferent, like the Botanical Garden's green meadows and the springtime fragrance intoxicating smiley flowers, like the winter full of mountains of bamboo and pallid balsam camphor trees ...... but they are just my cradle on the ornaments and embellishments, I appreciate them to praise them but they don't care about me.
Where on earth did I come from?
More often than not, I will gaze and meditate on the distant land of snow and ice, remembering the blue mountains of Xiaoxinganling shrouded in mist. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get the best out of this, but I'm sure you're going to be able to get the best out of this, and I'm sure you're going to be able to get the best out of this, and I'm sure you're going to be able to get the best out of this, and I'm sure you're going to be able to get the best out of this.
The windless days in the mountains, the quiet quercus forest gently and slowly drifting small clear snow, falling on the headscarf, do not melt, a moment will be brightly draped over a shoulder, is the Queen of the snow to send you a gift. If you close your eyes, you can hear the snowflakes kissing the leaves. That was the first time in my 21-year-old life that I realized that the original falling snow has a sound, such as mulberry silkworms sipping leaves, babies suckling, the sound of love.
Then live in tents, stovepipes night and day with a stout stick, rumbling like a forest train such as a woodland tractor rumbles, and sometimes with the foot of the mountain came the sound of clicking ice avalanches ......
The morning in the mountains and forests of serenity and charming, the top of the slope of the forest a touch of rosy red, mauve smoke lingering linger, the door to the white snow on the ground, and then the door to the snow on the ground. The snowy ground in front of the door, and printed on the night quietly came to an unknown small animal a ribbon of footprints, carefully recognized, such as plum blossoms such as willow tips and as a question mark, clear and messy winding in the snowy plains, disappeared into the depths of the dense forest ......
The mysterious forest dwellers gave me an incomparable sense of intimacy, which made me feel whether I should stay here from now on. feel whether I, too, should remain here henceforth.
The small footprints floating in the boundless snow field, just like our wandering turbulent youth.
I left my birthplace, Hangzhou, at the age of 19, and went to the distant and cold Northern Great Wilderness.
Then I used to miss my West Lake day and night, my hometown in the warm south.
But now I know that I no longer have a hometown. We are always on the go, sowing seeds that grow all over the world as we go. We take things as they come and put down roots; we come and go as they come, and we are at home in all corners of the world. We are like a group of new age nomads, a group of wandering immigrants who never have a place to call home. Perhaps I have traveled to too many places, and I already have too many second homes.
However, in the stifling summer heat of the city, I still think of the wilderness of the north, the land that has melted into our youthful blood and sweat. Everything there is rough and simple. Twenty years of days and months have sharpened me, a frail woman of the South, into a pliable and solid up. In the days to come, I may continue to wander, in this very big and very small world, searching for and creating their own spiritual home.
2, hometown
The fields of my hometown are full of children chasing each other, running freely with the wind, playing hide-and-seek in the vast sea of golden wheat, playing eagle and chicken in the open and boundless meadow; after the harvest, the farmer's uncle weaves the yellow wheat into a lovely scarecrow; the sparrows flying on the fields in search of paddy rice, the naughty children chasing after the hungry sparrows, frolicking in the fields of my hometown. The first thing I want to do is to make sure that you have a good time and that you have a good time.
The fields of my hometown, the golden waves of wheat, small insects stirring their wings to linger in the endless fields, birds singing the song of harvest hovering in the azure sky, enjoying the golden autumn. Harvest season, farmers wearing straw hats in the poisonous sun silently harvesting, the relentless sunlight has been their skin from dark yellow illumination changed into bronze, but created their strong spine.
The sound of chickens breaking the quiet of the hometown of the morning sun, the village was a layer of fog shrouded in a kind of hazy beauty; black chimneys with a halo, the smell of cooking smoke pervading the mountains and rivers in the hometown, I do not understand which a good woman in the dawn before the breakthrough of the early fire for the family to cook, the morning of the crystalline dewdrops like a white mirror in the shimmering light emanating from the sun flashes bright color, mapping the hardworking The face of Izumi is reflected in this mirror.
The wind in my hometown gently caresses the branches of the trees, and the osmanthus blossoms are scattered in a staggered pattern, and the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms wafts through every corner of the village, lingering over the scaled tiled houses.
When I left my hometown with longing and determination, I said goodbye to the piece of land that gave birth to me and brought me up, and came to the hustle and bustle of the neon lights shining city, looking forward to their own shining starry sky. But I don't understand why in every lonely night, I will think of that hometown life; think of the loved ones who love me, when I think of them, whether they will also be in the dim lights of the window hangs up on me.
Whenever I am alone at night, looking at my hometown at the end of the sky, I will uncontrollably sing the songs of my hometown and think of the people in my hometown.
What I miss is the warmth of the lights in my hometown, which is the greatest warmth in my life. I don't understand from ignorance or when, my grandmother has always been accompanied by my left and right. When I was a child, I fell asleep comfortably in the lullaby hummed by my grandmother; in the season of fragrant osmanthus, my grandmother would shake the osmanthus flowers with me and make sweet osmanthus cakes for me, and that sweetness would stay in my mouth for the rest of my life.
Grandma in the candlelight, mending my torn clothes, through the candlelight, the immovable power of the years has changed clothes for grandma; deep concave corners of the eyes, with a wrinkled face, curved convex waist, hobbling steps. I secretly counted the gray hairs on my grandmother's head in the candlelight, and inadvertently dropped an inexplicable tear.
The warmth under the lamplight, the grandmother in the candlelight; you are my attachment, you are the light on the road ahead of me, no matter the road ahead of me is a thorny thicket, or a mirage, I will take your love, walk through the desolate autumn, walk through the cold winds and bones of the winter, towards the undefeated spring of the blossom.
In the evening in my hometown, the red, flaming clouds reflect the red village, and the bright light of the evening sun illuminates the path of people returning from fishing on the river.
Perhaps you will also remember the floating clouds of your hometown in your bewilderment, perhaps you will also sing the warm Nanni Bend of your hometown after being hurt by betrayal, perhaps you will also want to go back to your hometown to return to the roots of your roots after the twilight of the twilight of the twilight of the twilight of the twilight of the twilight of the twilight of the twilight. No matter how far we go, how brilliant, and we are like the hometown of the heavy hands of the kite string tightly held, never wandering in a foreign land, the end of the world.
When our shoulders are burdened with the unbearable weight of life, please do not be afraid of confusion, please do not put down the bag on your shoulders, look at the lights that point the way ahead, continue to move forward. No matter how many turning intersections you have to go through in the future, please don't forget the way home.
I want to put everything of my hometown into my pocket, so that I can always feel the warmth of my hometown.
I never cared about the so-called happiness of the sea in the eyes of others, I only want to guard the brick by brick houses in my hometown, which are loaded with my memories, the rainbow I drew on the wall, the kites I flew in my childhood hanged on the wall, the paper airplanes I folded on the desk, and the gramophone my grandmother used to listen to the flower opera, my dreams, my fairy tales, and the warmth of my heart.
Singing the songs of our hometown, talking about our hometown, dreaming of our hometown, embracing the sunny days of our hometown, missing our loved ones in our hometown, and putting our hands together to bless our hometown.
The hometown is a song that warms my chest, the song of my hometown, pure as water, as passionate as fire, as brilliant as flowers, resonates through the clouds and warms my dreams.
3, looking back at home
Midnight at midnight, bubble a cup of strong coffee, with the heavy coffee, my fingertips flying in the keyboard, I thought of my beautiful hometown - the north of Jiangsu Province in the Lixiahe area of a beautiful small town of the water countryside.
Tranquility of the Hai Chi River, the ancient Eight Bridges, the beautiful scenery of the Water Forest Park, the charm of the old sand ditch all the time not let me tear wet shirt, soul fly home. Thinking back to my childhood, I stepped on the mossy green stone road, through a quiet alley, followed my mother to go to the bridge to wash and brush the sheets, and my classmates to the beautiful Pallet Spring Tour, hiking to the Wu Towel Dang flying kites.
Living in a city for a long time, it is inevitable to be assimilated in the language, I am a born in the north of Jiangsu Province, long in the north of Jiangsu Province, the authentic north of Jiangsu Province, although outside the stay for ten years, but the voice is still a strong accent. My daughter has lived in Nanjing since she was a child, and when she was two years old, because I was transferred to a foreign country to work, she was entrusted to the care of my mother-in-law until she was five years old and then returned to my side. The daughter just came a mouthful of accent at the moment has disappeared, at the moment speaks a mouthful of standard Nanpu language (Nanjing-style Mandarin), occasionally back to the hometown to listen to speak a little faster northern Sudanese language can not understand, learn to speak the hometown language, but also strange, so that I was heartbroken.
With my daughter, I would take her around. I've been to places where I used to live, study, and work. I took my daughter to my childhood on the Xinhua kindergarten (Yuanlao House), the famous Yuanlao House has been refurbished, my early childhood Xinhua kindergarten the two heavy doors actually still exist, copper door ride, did not change at all, just repaired and re-brushed layer of vermilion paint. I pointed to the high threshold, told my daughter, my mother was very young when she was in kindergarten there, once after school feet did not lift high, tripped over the threshold, the whole forearm and the ground friction, tender arm wiped a layer of skin, bloody, and still have a mark.
Taking my daughter through the mossy green stone road of Confucianism Street, walked all the way through the green brick tiles of the Shangyuan Lane, came to the old home of the most prosperous Pailou Road, where there is our hometown of the highest school, the county in. I told my daughter, mom graduated from elementary school with only two points difference with this campus. But mom's junior high school, junior high school are examined there, this is the mother when the unlimited desire of the campus, but also the mother when the goal of the struggle. Unfortunately, due to urban planning, the county high school has been relocated, leaving only some traces of the past. I walked around the old county in the demolition of the old trees left behind, looking up at the roots of the thick leafy branches, I do not know whether the tree still remember the county boulevard in the year there was a fair complexion, the body of the light shadow of the girl in a hurry to walk in the road to catch up with the examination.
Ten years ago in the evening, the beautiful Hai Chi River often have a long hair cape, plain dress, plain skirt of the woman sitting on the river or reading or gazing at the water, looking at the river surface ripples, looking at the dusk sunset gradually west, looking at the ducks playing in the river, the girl is the former me. After experiencing a wave of feelings, every day early in the morning or evening will walk around the Hai Chi River, only when I see the rippling surface of the river, looking at the gurgling river lapping at the bank of the riverbank, my emotions can get a moment of peace and quiet, without all the distractions, to enjoy the beauty of nature. The sunset and dusk accompanied me year after year until I left my hometown and traveled far away from home.
While the beauty of my hometown makes me forget to come back, living in my hometown those years, there are too many memories that make me entangled. When I lived there, I always expect to leave as soon as possible, looking forward to leaving all the chaos and cumbersome, have traveled between several cities, in that firecrackers, family reunion days I would rather eat instant noodles away from home to endure the loneliness and cold, I am not willing to return home, I hate it, I am afraid that I am touched by the situation. But time is the best medicine for healing, after many years, those tangled memories have faded away, my homesickness is getting stronger and stronger, the quiet of the small town, the coziness of the small town, so that the tired run I would like to stop and stop to rest, every time I go home on vacation always feel that the time is too short, sitting in the car back to their hometowns, always feel the road is too long to go back to the side of their parents, and always feel that there are not enough words to say.
The old parents, every time I hear the day I go home, every day are counting down the days. When I set foot on my hometown and called them, my father would go straight downstairs to wait for me, and my mother, whose legs are not good, would hold the door frame and keep looking. When my daughter saw my grandfather from afar, she would give him a big hug. The family would enter the house laughing and joking, and my sister and sister-in-law had already prepared a sumptuous dinner to welcome me. But every time I go back to Nanjing to say goodbye to my parents after a vacation, my mother always bursts into tears, and I hold back my tears and comfort her with a smile. I'm sure you'll be happy to see me again," he said, "but I'm sure you'll be happy to see me again," he said.
Spring, I think the most is the hometown of the willow; summer, I think the most is the Beishuiguan bridge holding a fan cool crowd; fall, I think the most is the paulownia road falling sycamore leaves; winter, I think the most is hanging under the eaves of the frozen nails. My beautiful hometown, I sincerely wish you, food production, economic takeoff, may my hometown more and more beautiful!
4, hometown reverie
In the north, look at the scene of the leaf fall flotsam fly, will think of my hometown, my hometown in the south of sichuan, a city by the mountains, where there is a mountain of greenery and the water of the Qingling, often let my soul, awake and thinking about serving, that is a small city, whether it is a big river or a small river, a there will be soothed down, the water-like, accompanied by the wheel of the year slowly flow into my heart, grow into the mold of dreams. The appearance of the water, accompanied by the wheel of the year slowly flow into my heart, grow into the shape of a dream, if the shadow, around the mountains and hills often in the mist delay, such a view of my hometown have some expectations, expect her more warm, bright, as if the mountains of the modern, or if the city in the countryside, in recent years, due to a long time in the field, every once in a while, back to the hometown, where the changes, more and more intimate, and in the past, such a feeling is not there, but in the future. time, such a feeling is not, after the holidays, when I left, without much sorrow and thought, but, stayed in the north for a long time, whenever you see the change of seasons, the wind in the cold breath, the yellow leaves falling all over the ground, the heart of the hometown of the vines, like flowers in the gradual blossoming of the general, so that I gave birth to a lot of despondency to reflect the life of the nostalgia, the thoughts are like wings, then in an instant, back to the hometown;
In the south, my hometown, there are many mountains covered with green clothing, the river under the mountains, like a gentle daughter, guarding the bank of the lights, like the Goddess Peak's perseverance, the continuation of the ancient dream, the river's meandering, the water's gurgling, in the narrow strip of land between the two rivers, nurturing a side of the land and the sons and daughters of the water, grow a lot of green, in the blue sky, white clouds and the vast fields between the diffusion of; where the rice scent of farmland, there is the smell of rice, there is the smell of rice, there is the smell of rice, there is the smell of rice, there is the smell of rice, there is the smell of rice, there is the smell of rice. There is the fragrance of rice in the farmland, the fragrance of melons and fruits, the golden color of rapeseed, the silk of silkworms, and that the city's modern avenue and the old city between the history and culture of the intersection of the river and the bank when the darkness of the night comes, the lamps on the river and the bank, the reproduction of the South is not endless charm and comfort;
The wine of the hometown, scattered in the ugly alleys of the taverns, taverns have a simple bar stools, the red and black square table, and that the Tank through the flavor, pure and simple, exudes the grain of the soft, lingering aroma, the people in the tavern, or farmers in the countryside, or vendors on the side streets, in the Chuannan slang, the past and present, strange stories, birds, insects, fish, the world, such as the river gurgling, as if the world of the day, in the wine and the words, become such a tangible; occasional gags, mixed with banter on the boss's wife, afternoon Time in a day, slowly towards dusk, slanting into the sun, shining dust, time seems to be frozen, everything has become so quiet and peaceful, that day, is the life of most ordinary people, before the scene, floating like an echo, over, is a sun;
Time is a magical thing, in the hometown of the ordinary world, there is the human nature is perfect and the people's goodness, there is too much warmth, and the people's goodness, there is too much warmth, and the people's goodness. There is too much warmth there, with language or laughter, to respond to a little bit of history and cultural heritage;
To the south is the Chishui River, where there are Luzhou, Yibin such wine city, perhaps it is in this environment, the hometown of the micro-brewery, there will be more than a few winks, entrained in the Sichuan Opera's high-pitched and torn, moving the heart of the people, I often shuttle in the hometown of small towns of all kinds of alleys, thinking about the humble facilities of the I often travel through the various alleys in my hometown, thinking about the humble facilities of the wine shop, which hides how many moving stories and flowing legends about wine; although in the modern concept of the metropolis, the alleys gradually withered, and I may be in a cold and breezy days, to find the taste of my hometown, the flavor of the wine in the heart of a long time ago brewing, waiting for a certain moment, emanating from the response to those mornings and evenings, where there are the memories of my childhood and endless lingering of my hometown. hometown endless lingering;
Hometown calligraphy, shuttle between modern and ancient, especially Pengxi calligraphy for the most, I used to see the calligraphy of the home of Pengxi's cultural wind up, a pavilion, a pavilion, a small bridge, a corridor, are so the ink fragrance continuous, the pen walks the snake, the meaning of Ruolan, that is the black art, between black and white, an indulgence in exuberance, or a human nature burning The intertwined imagery, between technology and art, leaves too much flying white, so that the space of imagination is released, that is the expression of the flow of motion and stillness, black and white, space and time, where there is your shadow, my voice, his future, there is the spirit of music, poetry, sadness and joy, and landscape jumping, that is a person to the world on a tour;
Shanshui's ethereal spirit, nurturing human nature The calligraphy of those on the road of the walker, continued for thousands of years as a gesture, watching over the culture of the artistic treasures, whenever you see the calligraphy works around, the heart shines or that hometown ink pool, overflowing ink, that is not forgotten memories, that is the hometown of this piece of land, the baptism of my growth;
Spring, whether the sun is bright or the wind is clear and water is green, the landscape in the ridge of the dam, between stretching, the yellow of rape The yellow of rapeseed, like a piece, running toward the sun, that is the smile of expectation, that is the golden green, long in the farmer's tobacco pouch, flow in the buffalo's call, and those countryside looking at each other, the sound of chickens and dogs, through the mist of the morning, passes the harvest of the yells, from the brick and black tiles of the farmhouse, the overflowing smoke, clamped with the morning sun in this south, spread out in all directions, a serenity and tranquility, so that a long time to think about;
This is the first time that I have seen the land in my hometown.
The river in my hometown, in any case, I can not avoid the memory of the 70's in the west of the city to build an artificial river, named Ditch River, that is from the Ditch River downstream to my hometown will be dyke dam, along the foot of the boat mountain, the green of the water and grass, is my memory of it for a long time, that is the paradise of my childhood, that is the first time that I perceived the river, that is the concept of swimming! Witness, my childhood, teenage years, in the river flow of the canal, precipitated too many stories, this day, it became very beautiful, but I found it old, like a quiet middle-aged woman, quietly flowing, I think it must miss its past youth and prosperity of the season, this day, it was modified by the modern lights, become fashionable and beautiful, but lost the hustle and bustle of the past, it is a kind of loss or gain of its quiet! Let the wheel of the year to give it an answer to it;
People to the middle age always think of the past, the warmth of the hometown is the beginning of recent years, every time I see the changes in the hometown, the feeling of the heart is always with the changes and ups and downs of its changes, pleased with the shallow regret, always in the flow of the inadvertent past may not be all right, but, not necessarily all bad, look at the winding riverfront road, traffic, lights, look at the Fujiang River coastline, and see the river, and then the river, and then the river. I think the hometown in the modern rhythm, tired to cope with, is it high-rise buildings, traffic, tourists are the result of the modernization of the hometown? I think the beauty of the hometown must be in the hearts of people, in each bright smile, and even in the family get together in the thick honey, people's happiness should be in the hometown of the dream of a plain look, is the warmth of each person needs.
5, deep in the curved alley there is my home
Green wall around the moss courtyard, the atrium day light banana roll. Butterflies are flying up the steps and the curtains are hanging down. The Jade Hook bilingual swallows, Bao Qiu Charlotte poplar flowers rolled. The sound of money in a few places, green window spring sleep light. --Title
Every evening, I always hurriedly put away full of fatigue, and with the setting sun, running back to their warm homes.
The city in winter has a cold and strange feeling. The crowds of people hurrying through the streets with the north wind blowing, I don't know them, and they don't know me. I walked in this monochromatic background, as if I had always walked in a silent movie from the 1930s, and slowly melted into the overlapping urban nightscape as the roads cut and changed.
I walked wearily but firmly, as if a voice was slowly pulling me, and I couldn't help but walk in that familiar direction. The old house was deep in the quiet alley, where I had my warm home.
My home is an old-fashioned two-story old house, located in the depths of a very old alley. This old German-style house has two courtyards, front and back, the front hall of the house to deal with the street, has now been converted into a shopping street. In the backyard, the door to the hall opens onto a winding alley. Every time I go home, I never want to go through Qianmen Street, preferring to go around the road is always willing to turn to this old alley. Walking in the old alley long hutong, high gray brick wall attached to the vine of the creeper, the season so that these dense branches of the vine, leaf fall decadence, leaving the empty thin root grasp, y rooted into the mottled wall, into a piece of the lattice composed of vines.
The road in the alley is the kind of paved with green stones, from the mouth of the alley all the way to the door of the backyard of my home. The stone paved path on the gap, in the long years of rainy season under the ravages, deposited a lot of moss, as far as the eye can see seems to be a road covered with green. On both sides of the stone path, close to the courtyard wall full of acacia trees, acacia trees that thick trunk, often full of light brown tits, tits in the branches and leaves fluttering in and out of the fly.
All this makes the whole old alley full of another kind of different vitality, hidden in the high-rise, busy and noisy city, looks so elegant and simple, very much the kind of "pale ancient trees even poor alley" mood. Whenever spring comes, the huge crown of the acacia tree in the alley will be full of starry white flowers. A gust of wind blew, the ground fell a broken white petals. When I was small, whenever I walked in the alley, I often picked up the fallen flowers when I saw them. When I went to bed at night, I folded my clothes next to my pillow, and the whole night was filled with the fresh fragrance of acacia flowers.
The end of the stone path is the door of my old house, in front of the courtyard door is made of green stone stone steps, wide short steps in front of the door with a few cool, bearing in mind that several generations of people have walked in the footsteps. On one side of the steps, there is a tree that has a lot of foliage and leaves, and the tree is several decades old and grows proudly.
Poking out the branches of the old house wall, the window frames up an orange-yellow cozy, and the street lamps in the streets and alleys reflect each other, in the overlapping city night scene, such as a leisurely light painting. I love this old tree, I like to hide in the shade in the summer, lying on an old wicker chair, holding a yellowed wire-bound book, listening to the robin's song.
When the moon is full, I like to make a cup of tea and watch the moon pass through the gap in the trees, the cold light and shadow mottled, detached, as if it is full of thoughts poured on the ground. Looking at the moon in the sky, the moonlight gradually thick thoughts and too many feelings, always and this old tree, like a companion, and I, but in this intertwined branches of the old tree gradually sank. I like this old tree, more like this old tree's youthful bloom.
Life is such a stroll in this, in the heart of the revisit their own growth experienced all the memories, although some of the past has been eaten by the years of fragmentation, but the life of the journey is still vivid.
I am waiting for this kind of ordinary and contented emotion, these old memories, as if let me go back to the past. Years is a white picture, only to see many previous episodes and past events were loaded on the speeding train of time, away from me gradually, only that the steps and this old tree accompanied me, and I grew up along the way, submerged in my temperament, personality and dignity, enlightenment of my pursuit and efforts.
"Life is in fact a painful cup, only in the details of the comedy meaning", happy and painful memories are able to choose their own. I have always thought that life is like a song of openness, to be able to declare that I am very strong. But I have never realized that the warmth is just beside me.
The sun sets, when the street lamps light up one by one, the warmth of the home and the light revealed in the window will lead me step by step towards the road home. I walk in this background, resting all my feelings on my shoulders. Searching for a dream of my own in the sea of lights floating in golden splendor. Every day, something different happens, the only constant is that we all have a happy home.
Expanded
The prose describes the hometown with the help of the author of several hometown emotional realization, expresses their own "hometown" of an understanding of a deeper sense of the search. The author's "hometown" does not only refer to a simple region, but also refers to the spiritual home. A place to put feelings. Compared with other types of prose, the hometown series of prose, can cause the reader's **** Ming.
References:
Baidu Encyclopedia - "Hometown in the Faraway Land"
Prose describing hometown - Meiwen.com