Part 1: The Story of Time and Light
A bowl of rice, put it on the second day, the water vessel will be a little dry; put it on the third day, I'm afraid that the taste is problematic; on the fourth day, we can almost find out that he has gone bad; and put it down, it looks like it is going to be moldy.
What makes that pot of rice rancid and bad - is time.
But in Shaoxing, Zhejiang Province, young parents gave birth to a daughter, they were in the cellar, buried a pot of rice wine. Seventeen or eighteen years later, when their daughter grows up, this wine becomes the best wine for her wedding. It has a beautiful and thought-provoking name, called daughter red.
What makes those ordinary rice, into a fragrant and sweet wine - also time.
Time in the end is good, or evil magician? Neither, time is just a simple multiplication to multiply the value of the original number. Beginning to deteriorate the rice, each day continues to become more putrid; and began to become mellow wine, each minute, are continuing to increase its fragrance.
In the human world, we have also seen that once the naive young man began to fall, it is not inevitable to fall deeper and deeper, and finally become full of dust, the face of hate. But on the contrary, time adds gentle smile marks, sympathetic eyes, mature elegance, wisdom and charm to those who pursue goodness.
The same boiled rice, rancid rice and wine where the difference? It's in that little bit of wine. Born of the same parents, who falls like a beast, and who is elevated to perfection? It is the deepest part of the heart, tightly embraced not to let go, the desire to seek truth, goodness and beauty.
How will time treat you and me? It depends on what attitude we expect of ourselves.
Part II: The Story of Light
The story of light changes us.
--Title
The story of light and shade changed us ...... On December 23, 2011, The Story of Light and Shade was officially staged. It was a large-scale stage play evening, which was created by the dedication of our whole class, parents as well as teachers.
It's been two months! We are working hard and harvesting.
From the beginning of the selection process, we have been taking this seriously. At first we were not now "Save the Earth" such a serious, environmentally friendly topic, but a very laughable play. Then after picking left and right, we still thought this play was more suitable for us.
At the first rehearsal, we didn't have much confidence and we couldn't even remember our lines. Stage play was unfamiliar to us, but we took it seriously. We got unexpected encouragement for our performance. The next after-school rehearsal time, we got more and more feeling. I can say this! I'm very confident in our team, and I'm sure Zhang Qin and Chen Hongfan feel the same way.
Me! Arguably the most important character in this drama - Earth. I'm the most important character in this drama, the Earth. I'm a lively and active Xiao girl, but in this drama, I have to become a sick Earth, which is the complete opposite of my own temperament. I grew up in this little drama and this character!
It seemed like everything was going really well, and then, just as we were approaching the official performance, I, in this important role, suddenly got sick. On Friday morning, I began to vomit and have diarrhea, and my whole body suddenly wilted.
In the evening, the party finally began. I was one of the hosts. I was so strong that I walked onto the stage again and again. The heart is so hard that it can not be expressed in words. Two little people suddenly appeared in my heart. One said, "Obviously you can't help it, so don't pretend! Tell everyone that you are sick, even if you act badly, the teacher and your classmates will forgive you." The other little man said, "You can't be pregnant with the good of the class because of yourself. Be sure to hang in there." I spent the entire evening pretty much lying on my back in front of the bathroom basin throwing up whenever it wasn't my time to perform. In the end, it was the second villain who triumphed!
With our Save the Planet, the placing wasn't that great, but I don't think we lost! This time "The Story of Light" stage play evening is very memorable to me. If I am given another chance, I will definitely act better and better than this time!
Part III: The Story of Light and Time
By the time we grow up, we often wonder what I was like as a child. In ancient times, due to the lack of photographic technology, often do not know what they looked like as a child, but in modern times, because of the camera can make this wish come true. When I opened the photo album, an enlarged photo came into my eyes. Wearing a grass-green sweater, his chubby little hands squeezed into a small ball.
With a white hat with light blue lace, sparse eyebrows, and a small red circle pasted between them. (I'm not sure what exactly, I just remember when I was a kid, children have to stick a red circle in the photo) two cheeks of pink meat piled up together, small mouth slightly open, eyes are confused. Next to it was written the words "good luck", I think it was a photo when I was one year old, wasn't it? Turning to another page, a photo caught my eye. Yo, there's even a punchy pigtail? There was still a little red heart on her brow, an unknown necklace hanging around her neck, and her baby fat had disappeared. Behind me was the backdrop of a bamboo forest, where I stood unsteadily on the ground with my weight on the ground, dressed in something that particularly looked like pajamas. Next to me was my younger brother, two years younger, holding a sword in his hand, legs spread wide. Only a small part of his hair was left in front, the rest of his hair was shaved off. Biting his lower lip, he gave a shy smile, adorable and extraordinary. I must have been five or six years old at this time. My relatives said that when I was little I could sing and dance well, of course I was taught in kindergarten. Often humming the Song of the Seven Sons, with accompanying movements. But now there wasn't a single memory of it. After flipping through a few pages, I saw a photo of me as a child that evoked the slightest hint of anger from my childhood. I remember, as a child, I had long hair.
But mom hard to cut the hair into a boy's hairstyle, looking at the mirror hairstyle. The corners of my mouth deflated, and wowed. Mom, however, ignored me and took me away directly. Then it was my second sister who couldn't coax me and took me to take a picture. Only then did it stop, only my younger brother was wearing light green backpack pants with his hat on backwards. Tilting his little face up, it makes people can't help but look at him. Looking backward, my evil brother said that this photo is very much like a village girl, and then put on a flower cloth headscarf, a basket will be true to its name. I stared closely at the photo, but it was the earthier clothes I was wearing and the lighting. It appeared darker, and the redness of the cheeks was accentuated. I was eight or nine years old when I was covered by the name village girl. There was a group photo next to it. I remember this group photo vividly, I was holding a mask of Inu Yasha and my brother was holding a mask of the Monkey King with red eyes. Originally, I insisted on the Monkey King's mask, and I didn't want to give way to my brother, because I have been robbing all the good things since I was a child. But because my younger brother is very unprofitable crying, I had to watch the mask was brutally snatched away. The twin sisters in the group photo I still distinguish at a glance, the first sister is more beautiful, the second sister is more heroic.
There are also a few unfamiliar faces, supposedly distant relatives. And then the back is the most recent photo, combing a thousand ponytails were wig covered, don't have a child's round face into a melon face, after post-processing, my darker skin has also become fair. Wearing a pure white princess dress, hands pinching the hem of the skirt, a bright smile. A photo, the record is not only the appearance of the child, the same also recorded the story of time and space.
Part IV: The Story of Time
The floating clouds in the sky, with the "thunderbolt" to float up to the clouds, trying to use their dazzling light to attract the attention of every flower, every grass - the yearning of childhood.
When I was a kid, I always liked to hold a sweet lollipop in my left hand and pull up a corner of my skirt with my right hand, swaying and turning my body in the envious and yearning eyes of my buddies, listening to the intoxicated voices of my friends. However, a little sister in the neighboring house proudly took out her beautiful bow from the closet, so that the awe-inspiring admiration clustered around her, and I heard my own crying `voice'. I could only go home alone and hug my doll, muttering my little mouth and murmuring in her ear, "Only you know me best, I am the prettiest, the most beautiful princess ......" In this way, childhood wore away its troubles in self-indulgence and self-congratulation.
The wind rolls in, the rain brushes the day passes, the sky is full of wind, clouds, thunder and lightning, the sun, moon and stars and the great sky is in my perseverance and perseverance in the hand lines, spreading the macro-dreams - the dream of the teenage years.
Juvenile time ah, always appreciate the personality and mood of the self, in the hands of the clenched, written in sweat and tears of the mingled. The tiger's mouth firmly buckle the paint off the pen, as if carrying the soul of the nation. Between the eyebrows of the Xuan Ang and fighting spirit, flat increase a Pangu open heaven and earth of temperament. But the struggle is always there! I desperately compete, want to surpass all the opponents, but I clearly feel their own fatigue, smelled the gasp of the rush and lack of. I heard the counting and sneering of the bystanders, and at once I felt incredibly weak, as if I had lost my steady pace, my lightness of being, my wonderful flow of blood in an instant, and was plunged into a deep, bottomless uncertainty. I searched for myself, but when I fell to the ground, I realized that I had to double my efforts and dedication. When the wings fall, re-fetching the scattered feathers, lifting up the brahmin face, smiling to meet the flowers and applause of success. So, I think, my teenage years in the self-excitement in the heart of the troubles.
Falling Ying colorful, gorgeous as the sky is full of poignant red, stamped with my Buddha flickering smile of enlightenment, looking for a piece of green stone, quietly watching the sea change into mulberry ...... the wandering of adulthood. In my adult period ah, the heart more laborious, the more eager to moist and soft, to be precise, this is my youth. The right hand holding the left hand, any lingering lingering in the heart, the heart has no other request, only to be forever confined to this wanton yearning. However, there is no longevity, no promise of eternity. The sky is splashed with green glaze, also, and learn from each other to brush their sleeves, each end of the world. The moment you turn around, smile naturally, sincere, gradually, my youth in a few times look back and turn around to write on the trouble, but also throw away the trouble.
Load a pot of small wine, drink freely, shake your hair, meet the day ......