The door to memories opens in a sea of drowning pain, and inside the door, the world is different. Laughter is locked inside the door, I am alone and blocked out. The days are like calculators, endlessly checking the inexhaustible pi. When the soft spring sunshine like a sword into my pupils to realize that the original snow winter has passed. But I didn't feel the slightest warmth, not even the slightest heat like a hair. I don't know if time is too fast and I am too slow, or my heart has frozen like ice? Put myself in the strong sunlight, pondering whether it will melt, only to feel that this mixture of warmth and cold like whistling on the equator of the flying snow, dancing, to me constantly sneer, and like a mockery.
I don't have any other preferences, but I've always been fascinated by dreams, the world of dreams, the people of dreams, dreams are always a haven when I don't want to face reality. I know, even if one day the whole world betrayed me, I can still head into my woven dream, so sleep, until the heart of the sun to rise again.
Every day at dusk, looking at the west of the sun in an evil beauty of the crimson a little bit down, can not help but secretly ridicule, even if the day again bright and dazzling sun, when the evening breeze blowing, it will eventually become darker and fainter, slowly die, and finally swallowed by the darkness. If the light is to overcome the darkness, then at this moment, it is the darkness that inhibits the light. Immersed in the last remaining light of the sunset, watching it painfully struggling helplessly in the sky, the sun is only one is the truth, the sun is always alone is even more truth! Just like the sun, behind the brilliant and gorgeous beauty, there is endless pain, behind the happy face written all over my face, there are well-hidden tears mixed with sadness.
I understand my own personality, always pull from the Himalayas mess, pull to the Nile. So am I pulling from memories to sorrow? But I know that if you want to bring up memories, it is inevitable to be sad. Instead of saying that sadness is the supporting role of memories, it is better to say that sadness has already taken the lead. It is like a transparent curtain over the heart, but not everyone can see it clearly. I remember Guo Jingming wrote in the postscript of the phantom city, I always believe that the children with literature on the side, has always been not happy, their happiness, scattered in some unknown place, as naughty children wandering to dawn, wandering to dawn still refuses to go home ...... I believe in this sentence, firmly believe, just as I believe that the earth is revolving around the sun as well. around the sun.
The insomnia at night is the best time for memories to take hold. The wind is blowing the wind chimes in my dreams, pulling me down into my memories. In the memories, each smiling face is the most clear, just like the first snowflake in January as pure. At that time, I did not understand the hurt, did not know the pain, plain little happiness as starlight shining beside me. There were no feelings, no sorrows, no thoughts, no injuries. In a fragmented memory of the remnants, only the sunshine and happy children in a large field full of tumbleweed like the wind speeding in the embrace of the blue sky, the hazy golden color spread throughout the field. This picture, which cannot be erased and will never go away, is always in front of me. The more I miss it, the more sad I feel, it's like a sharp knife, carving the same mark on my heart every night. The knife will never be dull, just keep carving, carving, until one day the blood soaked the blade, it will no longer be able to carve. I know that that memory will always be accompanied by sadness, as immortal as the inscription on the standing monument to the People's Heroes ...... or.... Fond memories
The past is gone, but it is the memories in time that have left me the most.
I had fantasized about turning back time, but I couldn't do it after all, so, in my inner heart,
The past life left me nothing but fond memories ......
I recalled the spring, the season of the birds and flowers. We sang at the top of our lungs and walked along the field paths.
Spring trips are most appealing to children, yet frying and cooking and running and playing,
is even more so. We sat under a tree and looked at the sky. The sky was blue, and under the blue sky,
tender shoots had sprouted from the branches of the tree, and it was as if I could see it thriving, basking in the sunshine of spring.
The shoots, aren't they the vibrant us?
I recall summer, the season of new green. In that little garden that belonged to me,
there grew countless little flowers and grasses. The grass was shiny green, while the flowers bloomed even more brightly!
Sporadic flowers scattered in the small garden, they are not as delicate as peonies, nor as fragrant as jasmine,
but they are still as touching, beautiful and lovely. In the distance, a yellow dot flew, close, closer!
Oh, it was a bee, very, very small. It landed on a wild daisy, sucking the sweet nectar.
When it left, the pollen went with it, accompanying the bee and settling around. Isn't that bee,
our hardworking gardener?
I recall the fall, with its harvest season. The fields, lo and behold, were full of gold, rising and falling with the wind,
as if they were a wave of tossing waves. In the orchard, apples and pears hang all over the branches, so watery and mouth-watering.
Bite a bite, the flow of fragrance overflowing, calling people can not forget for a long time. On campus, we chattered incessantly,
A summer vacation without seeing each other, each other can not help but miss. Summer vacation, we learned a lot of things, that knowledge,
is not exactly our harvest?
I recall the winter, the season of warmth. Although the leaves have fallen out, but also occasionally visible birds singing in the trees;
The grass has been yellow, but it will grow again next year; New Year's Day, although the cold wind is still piercing,
But that a New Year's greeting card is full of warmth everywhere.
It is a friendship of the students, a sincere, that blessing, is not that the long warmth?
I recall the past, more yearning for the future of spring, summer, autumn and winter. Let them be full of birdsong, covered with new green,
Destined to harvest, overflowing with warmth. Let them give me more good memories! Or. The hourglass of time in a little bit of quiet flow, the traces of the years in a stroke of fine painting. Good memories can bring us a lot of warm and touching.
That day, in the home is not interesting, then pick up a book, occasionally see an article called "Kiss the Little Witch", this article opened the locks of my mind, let fly those dusty long time good memories.
The article is about a little girl who is convinced that there are witches in the world and stubbornly believes that she is one. Before she goes to school, she lives happily in the world of simple witches. However, as she grows up, she has to do a lot of exercises and attend all kinds of cram schools in order to get into a key school, and her world of witches is shattered.
How much I am like the little girl in the story, I think I am a little witch. My mother said that I was particularly generous and quiet when I was a child, with a shallow smile, unlike my sister Precious next door, who was heartless. How could she have known that I did this to maintain the nobility and mystery of a witch?
Remember when I was in first grade, one morning at the school gate, a student forgot to wear a red scarf, was stopped by the student on duty, is there anxiously, this is my little witch to cast a spell of a great opportunity, how can I miss? When the student saw me, he rushed over to me, "Little Witch, I forgot to wear my red scarf!" "Don't worry, close your eyes and I'll use my magic to pick up your red scarf from home." I pretended to recite the spell, "Blah, blah, blah, red scarf, show yourself!" When that student opened his eyes, a red scarf appeared in front of him. In fact, I often put some common things in my bag, who need to "change" out. At that time, I thought, I need to keep practicing, in order to really change the magic. But as I got older, my witchy world disappeared.
Thinking back to that wonderful time, how childish and naive I was, bathing in the sunshine of happiness every day, I used my "magic" to help my classmates, and I felt immensely happy. I really hope that my witch world will shine again.
Everyone probably has good memories. Of course, I am no exception.
It was an early summer evening, I walked alone on a quiet path, walking aimlessly． Suddenly, a little boy attracted my attention. He was very dark, like a piece of charcoal. He was looking around, and curiosity drove me to take a look．
"What are you looking for, little brother? I'll help you."
"I lost my keys in a flash, my mom and dad are about to get off work, and I have to go back to cook!" As she said that, two drops of bean-sized tears fell down．
Suddenly, I suddenly remembered something and hurried back. "It's it!" I gasped and came to him．
"That's it, thank you big brother, my name is Xiaohu, come and sit in my house."
Before I knew it, he had dragged me to his house.
"Aren't you afraid I'm a bad guy?" I asked cheekily. I asked cheekily．
"No, big brother, you are so nice, how can you be a bad person?"
Seeing his sure expression, I couldn't help but feel ashamed, "That key of yours, I kicked it to the river．" I stammered．
"My father said, only wrong can be corrected, is also a good baby!"
That's how we got to know each other.
That's how we became the best of friends．
After that, we often played together．
But, my scene is not long, in the together a month, he said he had to move to the old house.
This is how we never saw each other again.
I remember when he said goodbye, he said, "Brother, we will meet again, right?"
"Well, we will."
While we never met again, our friendship didn't end, and I learned a lot in the month I spent with him． It was the best memory of my life． I still remember it vividly. Years like a song, six years of life in elementary school, as if yesterday's clouds, really beautiful; as if a cup of light bitter melon juice - bitter and sweet
My teachers, my classmates, my classroom, my desk, so I can not forget: six years of life in elementary school, it is they accompanied me over. Whether it is six years of wind and rain, or to the day of graduation and classmates said goodbye fondly, out of the school door, legs like lead: alma mater, goodbye!
The sixth grade tug-of-war, let me appreciate the true meaning of teacher-student love, the most sincere love between teachers and students. All the past, did not dilute my memory, I clearly remember that day - December 5, I just walked into the classroom, greeted with a warm atmosphere, the blackboard is written on the four words: unity of mind. All the students' cheeks were like tomatoes - their blood was boiling, and I realized that all this was caused by the teacher's "fanning the flames" - motivation. When the radio announcement to go to the playground, "brush" sound everyone got up and ran to the playground, and then the first game is our girls team long-awaited tug-of-war.
There was a surge of inexpressible excitement in our hearts. We all stared straight at the shiny gold certificate, the teacher's expectations of us have become the motivation in our hearts, we are eager to take the first. "Hush--" whistle sounded , we are ready, everyone red face, all make a nine bulls and two tigers, at the same time, the teacher loudly for us to cheer, 605 classmates are also a strong to give us a cheer. Rope ah rope, you can give us to fight ah! Teachers and students hissed, we must win! It's true that the sky is the limit! We finally won the first game. In the next and most important game, the match intensified and we were on the verge of victory when the referee called a foul on us. We were speechless, but in the next game, we finally won the first place with our actions, and a thousand words turned into tears in our eyes.
Remembering the unforgettable six years of elementary school life, let me can not help but ask my former teachers and classmates; are you okay?
Life has left a lot of good memories, they are like the glittering shells on the beach, from time to time, let you pick it up, chew and savor.
The night was terribly quiet, and there was not even a hint of wind. A few sparse stars in the sky blinked their eyes, and the fires of a few homes in the distance had gone out, but I was still sitting on the sofa, unable to fall asleep for a long time.
The radio was playing Zhou Hua Jian's "Friends", which reminded me of the day I left my alma mater:
It was raining, and I wandered around the campus alone with my umbrella. It's so beautiful here - the flowers and the trees. Once upon a time, this place was full of laughter, and everywhere was the sound of books. But soon I will be leaving this beautiful campus and embarking on a journey of study in a different country.
The flagpole on the campus, straight up, how many Monday mornings, we held a flag-raising ceremony here. That playground, leaving behind the passion we had when we started the school sports day.
The school building is in front of us, so kind, so familiar, reminds me of Xu Zhimo's "Farewell Kangqiao", "gently I left, just as I gently come" in the blink of an eye, the past has disappeared. Only left the teacher's kind face and friends a childish face. Unforgettable! Unforgettable, why will come so soon.
I doubt it:
It is the sunlight that comes and goes quietly on every day that we don't realize; it is the beautiful dandelion flowers that fly up gently and fall down again leisurely.
My alma mater is my glass shell.
I wanted to stay in it forever, and I knew that it was a pipe dream, impossible. Eventually, I came out of my glass shell to gaze into the sunlight. That was the day I realized that the sky and the soil were in harmony.
And so, I left.
Now I often revel in the past, but I know that with the passage of time, it's the past, and there's no way it can come back I hope this helps