Wing trace (1)

Often lost in the noisy crowd. Absolutely aimless. I don't know where I'm going.

I wonder if this is the so-called "walking". Noisy and noisy, will you be infected after being here for a long time? But why can't I taste it.

The old people with white hair and sideburns, whose faces have been covered with the vicissitudes of time, can be seen from time to time. They are like winding rivers, unable to see the source, but also like ravines crisscross. They are twisting their energetic bodies, old but never old in heart. Here, it is full of warmth. Although it was dark and there were no stars, they were like the brightest star.

In crowded shops, silver hair cards are shining in rows, eye-catching. They are really beautiful. A woman in fashionable and bright clothes tried a black hair clip in front of the mirror, and I glanced at her, her long blond wavy hair. Is it worth appreciating? I was confused. So, is it really beautiful? It's just a mask of hypocrisy. The real beauty should be the beauty of the soul. Only the soul can collide with beautiful sparks.

In the years of ignorance, I grow up day by day, and I really grow up. I learned that many people did not understand the reason before, and also learned to enjoy the loneliness in silence, silently appreciate the natural blurred twinkling beauty. I learned to express my feelings quietly with words, and gradually fell in love with...... Words.

"There is no trace of wings in the sky, but birds just fly by."

Wing trace (2)

You think those years have been far away from you for a long time. When you look back through time, the remote and yellow picture slowly unfolds before your eyes like the winter fog. It turns out that growth is like the trace of wings flying in the sky.

notes preceding the text of a book or following the title of an article

Many years ago, you lived in a small courtyard. The spring of that year was strange. It seemed that for the first time, you saw the trees sprout and the sunshine was beautiful. The environment at that time allowed you to have many dreams and even have time to record them. Do you remember writing the formula "9+9=17" in the courtyard with white chalk? Then the old man who has been watching you in the hospital will kindly and patiently correct your mistakes. The sun was shining all over the ground. That year, you were 4 years old.

Later, you lived in your grandfather's house for a long time. Grandfather is your backer, your courage, your mount and your water heater. In winter, there is always a hot water bag in your bed, but once the water leaked and burned your feet, Grandpa would give you a quilt. Grandpa was sitting in the bed, drinking those poor quality white wine. Half an hour later, the bed was hot, and you slept in the warm bed. That year, you were 5 years old.

Later, time took away the person who loved you most. When grandma, mother and uncles cried loudly around grandpa on the bed, you didn't shed a tear. You thought grandpa was just asleep. For the first time, death was so close to you, but you didn't notice it at all. It was just the first time that you felt confused and afraid. That year, you were 7 years old.

Still in that lonely yard, day after day in the morning, it is from those flowers. Vermilion, pink and white, light blue, one after another, climbed on the dense fence wall in a neat and spectacular way. It seems that whoever stood by the wall shouted, and the flowers of the fence opened together, swaying gently in the dewy wind. The flower core is the shape of a star, the expression of the night when it is too late to close. The pointer of time always points to a certain scale accurately every day. You always stand by the wall foolishly, looking at the flowers full of your and grandpa's memories, and then pick one flower and put it on a lonely tomb not far away, as if you heard one flower after another blooming quickly. That year, you were 9 years old. Later, I went to junior high school. You have witnessed the boys' love and righteousness. On their way of growing up, they secreted excessive hormones that directly transformed into great admiration for brotherhood. They looked at "Puzzled Boy" and talked about "brothers" every day. I always think that maybe 10 or 20 years later, they will still be like that. When they play football on the court and sweat, they can casually wear a simple and clean white T-shirt and a pair of white shoes, and then go to an ageless youth. Later, something happened in their circle of friends. One time, they took the initiative and made each other suffer from mild concussion. The news reached the ears of the school leaders and returned to the ears of all the students. When the school leaders announced the notice on the rostrum and read the words "fired", you saw their tears falling on the bright red uniforms... That year, you were 14 years old.

Later, a teenager appeared in your life. You didn't know his name, nor did you know a little story about him, but you used to see him in one place every day, and a delicate and soft love sprouted in your heart. That year, you were 15 years old.

The future is long enough for you to forget the appearance of that boy, leaving only a shallow shadow. Even so, we can't deny that in the young and green years, there was a special expectation for someone. There was a teenager who gave us a little warmth and sweetness in the indifferent morning light. It is like the wings of the sky flying over, leaving traces of green and sweet.

At that time, young you were standing on tiptoe, waiting for a warm young man with joy. And you, in the eyes of another teenager, are you as beautiful as an endless poem?

Those uncut youth, those unsophisticated and naive fantasies, and those traces of wings flying... all these will accompany our growth.

We will grow up slowly without fear.

Wing trace (3)

The day the shell broke out, it saw the traces of wings in the sky. Since then, it has the desire to fly.

When its partners are industriously searching for food on the ground with their bamboo shaped feet, it is tirelessly training its young wings. Time and time again, it flapped the air around it with its wings, trying to make it fly smoothly to the dreamy sky with the help of the air's counterforce.

"What is it doing?" A hen in gorgeous clothes pointed at it and asked her companion who was looking for food. "It is practicing flying!" said the insider. No one understands its behavior or its ideal.

It is still the same as before. The most respected husband was invited out, and he took the responsibility of persuading the ideal fanatics. "What are you doing?" the old man asked. "Oh, I'm practicing flying." "But we chickens don't need to be able to fly, because food is our need, and food is on the ground, not in the sky." "Food is life, and flying is my ideal. There is no food in the sky, but there is my ideal." "The sky never has chicken wings." "That's because the ideal wings are bound by material, and I just want to break out of the bondage." "Well, I hope you will be the ugly duckling." The old man understood its persistence, so he wished it well.

Although he doesn't know what the ugly duckling is, he knows at least the understanding of the elderly, so he practices more frequently.

Finally one day, when it flapped its wings again, it was surprised to find that it had been able to fly quite a long distance. Although it is far from the ideal height, it firmly believes that as long as you work hard, you can win. It easily flew to the top of the hut, where it sang to the ideal sky. Two strong hands caught it from behind. "How fat the chicken is! The wings must taste good when they are roasted." When the knife pierced its throat, it looked at the sky for the last time. The west is red with blood, and the sky is so far away.

Wing trace (4)

Whether in school or in society, we have more or less been exposed to the composition bar. With the help of composition, people can achieve the purpose of cultural exchange. How to write a thoughtful and literary composition? The following is the trace composition of growing wings that Xiao Bian arranged for you. Welcome to read it, and I hope you can enjoy it.

You think those years have been far away from you for a long time. When you look back through time, the remote and yellow picture slowly unfolds before your eyes like the winter fog. It turns out that growth is like the trace of wings flying in the sky.

Later, you lived in your grandfather's house for a long time. Grandfather is your backer, your courage, your mount and your water heater. In winter, there is always a hot water bag in your bed, but once the water leaked and burned your feet, Grandpa would give you a quilt. Grandpa was sitting in the bed, drinking those poor quality white wine. Half an hour later, the bed was hot, and you slept in the warm bed. That year, you were 5 years old.

Still in that lonely yard, day after day in the morning, it is from those flowers. Vermilion, pink and white, light blue, one after another, climbed on the dense fence wall in a neat and spectacular way. It seems that whoever stood by the wall shouted, and the flowers of the fence opened together, swaying gently in the dewy wind. The flower core is the shape of a star, the expression of the night when it is too late to close. The pointer of time always points to a certain scale accurately every day. You always stand by the wall foolishly, looking at the flowers full of your and grandpa's memories, and then pick one flower and put it on a lonely tomb not far away, as if you heard one flower after another blooming quickly. That year, you were 9 years old. Later, I went to junior high school. You have witnessed the boys' love and righteousness. On their way of growing up, they secreted excessive hormones that directly transformed into great admiration for brotherhood. They looked at the "Puzzled Boy" and talked about "brothers" every day. I always think that maybe in 20xx, 20 years later, they will be like that. They will play football on the court and sweat all over their bodies. If they casually wear a simple and clean white T-shirt and a pair of white shoes, they will be able to go to an ageless youth. Later, something happened in their circle of friends. One time, they took the initiative and made each other suffer from mild concussion. The news reached the ears of the school leaders and returned to the ears of all the students. When the school leaders announced the notice on the rostrum and read the words "fired", you saw their tears falling on the bright red uniforms... That year, you were 14 years old.

Later, a teenager appeared in your life. You didn't know his name, nor did you know a little story about him, but you used to see him in one place every day, and a delicate and soft love sprouted in your heart. That year, you were 15 years old.

The future is long enough for you to forget the appearance of that boy, leaving only a shallow shadow. Even so, we can't deny that in the young and green years, there was a special expectation for someone. There was a teenager who gave us a little warmth and sweetness in the indifferent morning light. It is like the wings of the sky flying over, leaving traces of green and sweet.

At that time, young you were standing on tiptoe, waiting for a warm young man with joy. And you, in the eyes of another teenager, are you as beautiful as an endless poem?

Those uncut youth, those unsophisticated and naive fantasies, and those traces of wings flying... all these will accompany our growth.

We will grow up slowly without fear.