This room, the walls are just extremely ordinary white, originally white wall paint was painted by my request to the Chinese pink and green colors, curtains were also changed into the same color by me.
Night, the curtains were blown by the wind, slightly floating, driving my emotions quietly walk all the unhappy during the day. The desk under that pink window was neatly lined with various books. In the center of the desk was a language repeater and a globe-shaped radio, which was the prize I won in the Xiamen City Computer Competition, and whenever I saw it, I was happy. On the front of the radio was a clock, and the beating minutes and seconds kept telling me to make good use of my time. The computer, sofa, cot, and the harp and harmonica hanging on the wall make up my paradise.
Paradise, accompanied by my growing up day by day, where I have their own visions, dreams and thoughts; here, I read a lot of life's truth; here, I can enjoy singing, stand in front of the window on a whim to play the harp and harmonica. Open the computer on the Internet is my rare pleasure.
Paradise gives me confidence and urges me to work hard. I remember the third grade to participate in the district math competition, how many nights, Paradise lights, a large pile of math papers left my footprints. In the face of difficult problems, I was undaunted, because there were many weapons in the Paradise to help me kill my way through the sea of questions. With great success, I captured the first prize. I ran back to Paradise in ecstasy, smelling the books on my desk, looking at my beloved Paradise, and smiling at the thought that all my efforts had been rewarded. It was as if Paradise was telling me that success and hard work are directly proportional.
Paradise was again a refueling station for me when I failed. It was a district essay contest in fifth grade, and I fell short. I was dumbfounded by the fact that I had always been a sure winner, and suddenly I felt that everyone was casting contemptuous glances at me. With my head down, I forced myself to hold back my tears and returned to Paradise, collapsing on the sofa in a defeated state. At this time, I saw the table that "how steel is made" book, I feel an infinite power to encourage me. Yes! The main character in the book, Paul Kochagin, insisted on revolution even though he was seriously ill, but what about me? I only encounter a small setback and then get downhearted. What is my setback compared to the pain that Paul endured? When I thought of this, the shadow of failure disappeared. I rediscovered myself - a confident, hard-working me. So, I picked up the harp and played it, and the beautiful music suddenly filled my paradise.
Cubicle, thank you! It is you who opened your arms and took all my love and needs into your arms, and selflessly provided for me when I needed it. You are my eternal paradise on the road of life!