Tag: 龙凤论坛楼凤论坛TV

Memory won’t go away

[Introduction] every time I recall a paragraph, my heart trembles and gets excited. Just like discovering spark in the vast wasteland. It is also like picking up the baby in the sparkling light. Listening to the long notes, there are years flowing slowly in my heart. After passing the downtown, I suddenly heard the flute and walked around Wanwan, floating from the other side of the street. Who indulged the trembling notes from the cracks of the crowd? Before I went across the street to find it, the flute came in a daze. It is also melodious. A fifteen-or sixteen-year-old boy, with a pocket on his shoulder and several bamboo flute inside, held his mouth and blew while walking. So young, the bamboo flute blows smoothly. Gentle, such as mountain brooks, trickling rushing, yixieqianli; Agitation, like flowing water, waterfalls san qian chi, suspected Galaxy nine days. I don’t remember who wants to listen to the old song. In a word, Cui Ma was busy sending food with a whip. It seemed that the light wind blew over the water and came through the waves; It seemed that the microwave was indulged in ripples and the turbulence spread. It stirred ripples in my heart. When I first heard this song, was it the same age as this child? No, it seems that I am still young? In the memory, the setting sun is falling slanting, and the light is broken. At that time, did the teenager who often sat on the fish pond and played flute have dreams? That’s the cowherd next door who mowed grass and carried a basket. Should he be old now? And I clearly remember that for a bamboo flute, in order to blow out smooth notes, the young boy was on the fishpond every evening, facing the deep night, dripping and blowing continuously. The flute was a bit like a scream tearing through the throat, falling down and smashing heavily, making the pond full of smoke. Forty years later, where is the small fish pond installed? Also bearing juvenile? Or, is it an old man over half a hundred years old? Who is listening to the flute now? Wang nianglang and I were fascinated by the bamboo flute, which was melodious with the glow of the sun. Like the sound of the sky, it shines like a blazing light, flowing into the heart thoroughly, like honey, sweet and clear pool of clear water. At that time, educated youth went to the countryside. Across our house, there is another production team across a stream. Deep ravines and raised mountain beams separate the seemingly close two places far away. One day, an educated youth came from the opposite production team, who came from the big city and blew a good flute. In summer, when dusk comes, the flute on the opposite side blows. The sound of the flute was melodious, coming with the setting sun and the glow. Waves of warmth warmed the atrium to a mess. Therefore, I am obsessed and listen. That was the sound of the screen. I always hope that the flute will never stop. One day, the flute stopped suddenly. Educated Youth went back to the big city. Heart, followed by empty. It was still the same deep night, and suddenly I felt a lot dark. It is still the same pond water. Why does it become turbid? Irritability, disturbed. Therefore, we went to the stream to cut down Fengzhu in the West and made our own bamboo flute. Saw bamboo knots, scrape Green, punch holes, dry with relish. The poor kids also dreamed of blowing the sound of nature. In the end, the bamboo knot didn’t turn into a bamboo flute in our hands, but only ended up with the residue of the pond and the loss of the belly. The cowherd was crazy. He stole two yuan from his family and bought one from the street. As a result, there was a bamboo flute, but the skin suffered a pain. After that, there were screams on the fishpond. Although the flute was not heard, it seemed to be covered with colorful rainbows in front of our eyes, and the sunshine was soft and colorful. The flute continues, so does my memory —— every time I recall a paragraph, my heart trembles and gets excited. Just like discovering spark in the vast wasteland. It is also like picking up the baby in the sparkling light. Listening to the long notes, there are years flowing slowly in my heart. Memory, just followed the flute to the front. The scenes that were originally thought to have been lost and gone, one scene after another, were displayed so clearly. It was the accumulation of time that buried the past deeply, thinking that they had forgotten it, but unexpectedly, when they encountered the impact, the gates would open, which was unexpectedly like tears bred by Mussels. Unexpectedly, they all became pearls, one by one, with glittering light. Touching the past, it was a piece of warmth. This memory, perhaps, is truly eternal and will not go away.

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