Style Composition 600 (1)
How many autumn years have I spent with you
I held the pulse of your arm tightly
Look at the dimples on your face
I can't help singing the love song of betrayal
I took you to see the fireworks under the stars
I gave you all my love to spend
There's a lot of love in this world
There may not be a few endings. This pain is nothing
I miss so and so in the deserted street
You are giving gentleness in others' universe
The grace I can give is to smile and silently let go
I know your tears are just a kind of helplessness
Why draw a false outline of the future
Who am I waiting for when love no longer exists
Laugh at the humorous arrangement of fate
I know your recovery is just a habit
I once embarrassed you. How afraid you are of being alone
The story can be repeated, but the time is no longer
Feelings need a little blank
To sort out regrets
How many autumn years have I spent with you
I held the pulse of your arm tightly
Look at the dimples on your face
I can't help singing the love song of betrayal
I took you to see the fireworks under the stars
I gave you all my love to spend
There's a lot of love in this world
There may not be a few endings. This pain is nothing
I miss so and so in the deserted street
You are giving gentleness in others' universe
I can give. Manner is smiling and silently letting go
I know your tears are just a kind of helplessness
Why draw a false outline of the future
Who am I waiting for when love no longer exists
Laugh at the humorous arrangement of fate
I know your recovery is just a habit
I once embarrassed you. How afraid you are of being alone
The story can be repeated, but the time is no longer
Feelings need a little blank
To sort out regrets
I know your tears are just a kind of helplessness
Why draw a false outline of the future
Who am I waiting for when love no longer exists
Laugh at the humorous arrangement of fate
I know your recovery is just a habit
I once embarrassed you. How afraid you are of being alone
The story can be repeated, but the time is no longer
Feelings need a little blank
To sort out regrets
Senior 1: iyut8
Style Composition 600 (2)
It was drizzly, and I was strolling along an ancient road with an oil paper umbrella. Such a gloomy weather made my mood drop to the bottom in an instant.
There are old houses around. The walls around are covered with moss. The moss makes the road very slippery. Suddenly, I smell a sweet smell of sweet osmanthus. The aroma attracted me to an ancient and simple store, with three words "Osmanthus Cake" written on the board. When I opened the door, I saw a sweet scented osmanthus tree in front of me, just like the sweet scented osmanthus tree in Grandma's house, which had already been built.
An old man was sitting on a recliner in the house. When he heard the creak of the door, he looked up at me and stood up silently. There was a natural grace in his actions.
"Girl, you are not here." The old man smiled. "No, I'm not. I'm here to visit relatives." I took a breath and breathed out my inner annoyance.
"Grandpa, can you... show me?" I nuzzle towards the stone mill?. The old man smiled knowingly and said nothing. He went to the stone mill, scattered some glutinous rice, scooped up a spoonful of water, and then pushed the stone mill to rotate.
With the rotation of the stone mill, gurgling juice flowed out. After collecting the dregs, the old man mixed sweet osmanthus with glutinous rice and kneaded it carefully. I was intoxicated by the rich fragrance of flowers accompanied by the fragrance of rice. Then, the old man took out the mold, spread the things on the top, and pressed the board carefully. After pressing, use another board to press it as carefully as you treat your own children, and change your usual natural and unrestrained appearance.
While waiting, ask the old man's family. The old man sighed, got up and went into the room. I followed him silently. There was a colorful sticker on the table. The old woman on the sticker smiled kindly. Much like my grandma, my eyes are dry, but I still try hard to hold back and pounce. "She left..." The old man couldn't help crying?. Originally, she accompanied the old man to make sweet scented osmanthus cakes and spend time together, but she could not compete with the years after all. She let go early and disappeared into the world. I sighed and mourned for the old man. But the old man was very open-minded and wiped his eyes. He comforted me and said, "Little girl, you will die if you leave. Do you know that some people will be remembered by others forever. So you should be such a person, ha ha ha!" The old man laughed a few times. I feel that he is a fisherman chatting with Qu Zi and a hermit doing things with ease.
The old man treated me to the sweet scented osmanthus cake that I had just made. After I ate one of them, I still felt unhappy, but he was not my family, so I was embarrassed to ask for more. The old man saw my mind and took out the bag to put things in and handed them to me
I accepted it silently, and then remembered that the old man had just said something about pure handwork... So I asked "Grandpa, does the industrialized equipment have some impact on this?"
"Yes, of course. Many of my peers have stopped doing it, but I don't want to, it's ancestral! It can't be lost. There are many people who eat, and the wine doesn't need to be deep in the alley!" The old man said, and then laughed a few times, never losing his natural and unrestrained demeanor
The scene of natural and unrestrained demeanor, which can only appear in movies and TV plays, is vividly displayed on the elderly. I think it is a gift from heaven for the elderly.
Fragrant osmanthus, handsome old man
Style Composition 600 (3)
The town is an ancient town.
The flowing water, grey tiles and white walls, are as quiet as a dignified gentleman, caressing his sleeves and chanting poems.
The town is named after Suona. The old man is also a suona craftsman. The suona craftsmen, like the old people, closed their doors and had nothing to do. They pondered the ancestral craftsmanship in their huts and became increasingly refined. When they played on the stage, they brought people beautiful memories from the depths of time, and they were very graceful in their eyes.
The moon is silent, but the time is resounding. The introduction of Western culture has made the suona class increasingly bleak. Due to the pressure of life, most suona craftsmen throw away the lock code, let time chew and spend a lot of money to buy back foreign musical instruments, decorate the band, and attract people who pursue freshness.
A stone stirs a thousand waves.
The old man saw that the suona culture was crippled by the foreign culture. He moved away from this place, found a small house in the deep lane, and continued to ponder the craftsmanship, showing his refined demeanor.
There was a ginkgo tree in the yard. When the wind blew, the leaves fell, like a dead leaf butterfly flying, rotating and drifting.
The old man sat on the stone chair, took out the suona from the cloth bag he carried with him, took a square towel, and carefully wiped the suona, just like caressing the face of his own child, his eyes full of love. The finger belly is rubbing along the suona tube, as if talking with the old ancestor, or touching the magnificent suona culture.
After a little rectification. The old man held the suona tube in both hands, pointing his fingers to the air hole. Take a deep breath, face the whistle, blow slowly, and then lean forward. One by one, the notes leap in the ancient town and flow into the ears. If you listen to the fairy music, your ears will be bright for the time being, and your eyes will turn back.
From time to time, a few sparrows came and stood on the branches, swaying the branches, as if they were beating the beat for the old man. I'm very happy.
The old man was dressed in plain clothes, and although his back was slightly bent, when he played the suona, it did not reduce the refined demeanor of the elegant gentleman.
The ginkgo leaves are flying away from the wall.
Perhaps the old man did not see that outside the wall, people who had been intoxicated with western music were asking questions, listening to the suona music quietly, and realizing the music full of years. yes. The old man, standing tall and straight for a blue sky, sticks to the suona, and the unfailing refined demeanor makes the suona draw a beautiful arc like a meteor, across people's hearts, leaving traces.
The town was intoxicated with the long suona music, and closed its eyes to listen.
Style Composition 600 (4)
Walk along the alley, follow Douxiang, gently push the half closed wooden door, and with a 'squeak', you can see a white haired old man standing in the courtyard.
The white coat is close to the body, the white hair is shining, and the eyes are shining. Holding a purple pot in the right hand, the tea is slowly poured into the left palm cup. The breeze blows, blowing up the old man's corner of clothes, and lifting up the old man's fine hair at the temples. The elegant demeanor is as proud as plum blossom, as green lotus.
Seeing me enter the door, the old man put down the pot and cup in his hand and said hello to me with a smile. I nodded to him. "Beans are very fragrant. Are you making tofu?" "Yes, it's a craft" It seems that in order to show me this traditional craft, the old man picked up the washed soybeans and walked straight to the stone mill.
The old man firmly tied his horse step, pulled, pushed and sent the log in a circle, and milky soya bean juice bubbled into the barrel along the stone wall. Add coagulant, mix well and stand still. Remove the excess juice, and the tofu will be ready. Pick a small part with your finger pulp and place it on the tip of your tongue. Immerse the juice into the tongue coating to moisten your mind.
Unlike the hustle and bustle of the alien market, the court is silent. Different from the insensibility of plastic packaging, it has strong bean fragrance. "Why is your bean curd more delicious than line bean curd?".
The bean curd shops in the alleys have disappeared. The plastic packaged bean curd in the shop window at the entrance of the alley is still lying there. The milky bean curd is like the whites of the eyes in the pupils, looking coldly at the people in the world and watching the disappearance of traditional crafts. However, the old man's tofu farm is full of bean fragrance, which can refresh people's hearts and touch their souls.
In a noisy and flashy world, people are absorbed in fame and wealth, and hurry to speak and act. Tofu production is like an assembly line, fast and fast, but it loses the most authentic flavor.
Smelling the bean fragrance and looking at the old man standing beside the tofu, he smiled quietly and gracefully
