Days with kites ([folk art] solicitation)

Childhood experiences perhaps just to in my heart buried 1.1 drops of memory, happiness or, sadness or, in the future memories slowly, repeated chewing. The original memory can also be rumored. At that time, every spring, Grandpa would paste a kite by himself and take me to fly a kite in the wheat field in early spring. Now I can’t remember the color and shape of the kite. I only remember that there are only Grandpa and me in the broad wheat field, and only my kite in the vast sky, it seems that the vision that kites can reach is my world. I feel that my attachment to the Earth is like the yearning of kites for the Sky, which is the longing for spring and the pursuit of all beauty. So whenever I mention spring, I always think of the two men flying kites in the cyan wheat field. I stubbornly believe that the day when there are kites is spring. After growing up, those happy days faded away from my own hands. Sometimes I was not at home for the whole spring, and I could not see my grandfather, nor the kite he had painted by himself. I only occasionally pay attention to Grandpa’s increasingly stooped body and the paper and bamboo strips used to paste kites on the wardrobe covered by time, and then I think of the days when there were kites by accident. I began to hate the kite. I only wanted to break away from it and could only see the distant sky, but I didn’t notice that the person holding its thread standing behind the Earth was still looking at it., Hate it for taking away my childhood, and smoking Grandpa’s remaining life a little bit. I no longer yearned for spring, was no longer excited to see the cyan wheat fields, and did not deliberately recall the days when there were kites. I even liked the lonely autumn and quiet winter, but I didn’t like the spring that stole the time. Once I went out for a walk and saw a broken kite with a broken thread, so I picked it up conveniently. A boy of six or seven years old came to me in the distance, and said to me softly: Big Brother, this kite belongs to me. But it is so broken, can it still fly? Can! How do you know? Because it is a kite! Because it was a kite, I was shocked by this strange little brother’s answer. It seemed that I remembered something again. Because it is a kite, it can yearn for the sky, spring, freedom, life and all the beautiful things. Even if it breaks, even if it breaks, even if it loses everything, it will not lose its original dream. It turned out that spring was always beautiful, but I forgot to appreciate it and deliberately escaped. I will accompany grandpa in my spare time, paste a kite in Grandpa’s smiling eyes, and then accompany grandpa to fly kites in the cyan wheat field. Just like when I was a child, Grandpa took me to fly kites. I will slowly pick up my love for kites, my yearning for spring and my pursuit for all good things. In fact, spring is not just bright flowers, gorgeous rainbows and colorful dreams. He is more of a belief, a persistence, a natural smile after experiencing hardships and vicissitudes, A kind of desire and dream that will not be lost even if the land falls on the ground. A kind of quiet and good growth. Because spring is not the only spring in a year, and every spring goes through the cruel autumn and winter. As for people, there will not only be spring, but also more setbacks and trials. Spring always comes after these annoying things. I still think stubbornly like my childhood that the day with kites is spring. Like (prose editor: prose online) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. I think, if I am a man, be accepted… From today on, I want to be happy I read “the biography of Hulan River” long time ago, and I remember that I was really in a heavy mood for a long time. Which characters caused me… Sick time I sneezed one after another these days. I said someone was reading me and others said I was sick. Finally, the doctor also said I was…