The breeze is setting in the sun, and the stream is blue and the face is locked; Who is in the spring where the flowers bloom, such as orchid, loneliness and fragrance, such as plum, silence and Eaglewood? Who danced Ruoxue dream? Looking back, it was a thousand years? Mo Wen, is meeting fate or robbery? A persistent thought, a flower, floating in the corner of the world of mortals, warm fleeting time. A flower, a world, a city. The spring of March is like love, which suddenly comes and goes. The mood is capricious. No matter it is warm or cold, you still bloom willfully, throwing everything away, including me; And I, just like the light grass, looking up, your elegant plain face; And the beauty of the breeze passing by, lowering your head. Reading you is like a piece of falling Tang Poetry and Song poetry; In your colorful world, I can’t walk in; I only wish to accompany you through a lonely city. One thought becomes Buddha, one thought becomes devil; The moment flowers bloom and fall, those flowers bloom in the spring breeze, fall into memories; Those things, after experiencing, understand the taste of pain; That person, only when you live in your heart can you know the color of your missing. Thinking of you is like an invisible net in the dark night; There were several times when the stars rose and the moon fell, and there were several times when the snow fell and the rain fell, writing with thick ink and lines of tearful words. Floating Life is like a dream, quiet and quiet; Standing on the other side of the years, the shallow pen is quiet, dreams and craziness, laughter and tears, then quietly murmured into memories. Maybe one day, we are all old, but I will still remember the beauty you made me move.

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Writing and waving ink, the smoke willow setting the Sun, The Xiushan stream have been there, recently looking back, I always feel that it is still the door that makes people hurt secretly. For many years, the memory of childhood has been fragmentary. Fortunately, Yi still remains in my mind clearly. Every time I walk through the old yard, or even see the old lane of the old house in the picture, I can’t help thinking of that door and the sound of the door. Just like the newborn silkworm, it is very comfortable. It turns out that memory is also a kind of vivid life, but life is always dignified. What was close to my memory was still the door when Grandpa was still alive dozens of years ago, which was a thick and mottled loose wooden door. Although it has no paint color of modern city, no solid alloy, no elegant style of glass and iron decoration, it is purely a thick door of natural wood. Although it is so common, it has become a turning point in my life unintentionally. In the early morning, a creaking sound rang out. It was grandpa who was opening the wooden door on a new day, and then the comfortable light would always come in and fill the whole house happily. In the evening, there was a creaking door sound, which was Grandpa’s Twilight in the isolated field and the mountains. Then, the shining light of the Jade Moon would slip in through the crack of the door, which was as soft as water and as desolate as Frost. I had this wooden door when I was still learning. I carried the flat schoolbag proudly, and then the schoolbag became heavier and heavier until I carried the heavy traveling bag, it is always inseparable from that door step by step. In the hands of the elder generation, the house was renewed, and the door and the house where grandpa lived were only alone. In fact, people are the same. When they are old, they will always be as lonely as the door. When Grandpa was over 80 years old, he often lived alone in this small house. Father asked grandpa to move to the front yard to live together. He always said, “I’m not used to it.. Fortunately, my father’s newly built house was only two meters away from him. It is also convenient to take care of him. Grandpa was tough, and in the last year when he was 84 years old, he was able to take firewood by himself without crutch. In fact, at that time, there had already been Lotus-root coals running away from home. He still said: If you get used to it, you won’t waste money. In fact, that door still has a deep feeling of guilt for me. I am the oldest at home and the most useless one in reading. You can imagine that you don’t need to repeat the comparison when you go to college. I am not afraid of making a fool of myself, but I have been in high school for five years. I read that the willow trees in the corner of my house are old and the bolt of that door is brighter, I barely went to a university that could jump out of the agricultural Gate (it was a pride to walk out of the agricultural gate at that time). I didn’t want to read it again. I said let me guard this door. Grandpa reprimanded me angrily. He said, “nothing useless, no ambition at all. Grandpa closed the thick wooden door. After he closed the door fiercely, I never saw grandpa open the door any more. But the people who opened the door later were my father, brother and me, it was to lift his cold and stiff body out. In August of the next year, on a day which was not a memorial day, I specially gave grandpa a column of incense with the notice I had been waiting for for a long time, and then I left that door. Since then, I have embarked on a new life journey. That door became my new starting point. Now I am almost forty. The age is still growing, but the years still keep the peace of that pure wooden door, and we can’t see what the passing time has changed. But every time I go back to my hometown to visit my parents and open that door, I feel sad secretly. The one who opened the door before had turned into a pile of graves. Now the one who came to open the door only remembered the angry appearance beside the door that day. There was no one guarding the door any more, only the firewood piled up inside by mother was accompanied by the coffin they prepared for themselves. I opened the dusty door again. My parents told me that the door was not destroyed in their hands, and it was better not to dismantle it in my brother and me. In fact, my brother and I have lived in commercial residential buildings for more than ten years in the county town 40 to 50 kilometers away. Who will go to Dali’s old house and door. I don’t know what my brother thinks and arranges, but I don’t know. At least I am will follow their parents’ words. In fact, there are thousands of doors and millions of doors in the world, but what I can’t forget in my memory is still that door, which can never be opened after being closed. Maybe it was the heaviness of time that doomed me to bear the heaviness of my life in the long journey of life, and I should always remember the door that made me hurt secretly.

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