Tisch

Small things are not always mundane. Maybe through deep thinking, we will find some treasures. Inspired by life, noble is better than ordinary. Starting from ordinary things, I gradually learned to be a man.

One morning, my classmates and I strolled from the canteen to the classroom. At this time, a boy jumped from the right, which made us have to slow down. But the boy seems to be looking for something on the ground. We realized that we couldn't stop to let him go, so we made a detour. The style is so big that people feel that the bright sunshine seems to be just a painting in front of them.

I subconsciously looked back for a moment, but it stayed in my mind for a long time. Because I saw the boy tirelessly chasing a plastic bag that was blown away by the wind again and again on the ground. Finally, he picked it up and put it in the trash can next to him.

I was immediately shocked. I didn't notice that there was a trash can beside me, that he was just picking up a plastic bag, and that boy's resolute expression. From seeing him walk away happily until his back slowly disappeared, I have been thinking that dedication can be so simple, so ordinary, so happy and so meaningful. It turns out that there are such people around us. Boys' every move deserves our appreciation, attention and consideration. ...

One of the most common movements reflects a person's accomplishment. Ordinary things are not far away from us, even around us. Perhaps when we see pedestrians in a hurry in the rain, we will only sigh with pity; Maybe when we see someone busy looking for an address, we just stare silently; Maybe when we see the dustbin that has been blown down by the wind lying quietly, we only think that someone can help it up. If we can bend down once, ask a word and extend a hand, then we will all feel the joy of dedication.

Doing an ordinary little thing is not easy to be noticed, but it can reflect a person's cultivation. Being a conscientious person in life can learn a lot from it.

extreme

Ten years of wind and rain. I only have a few days and nights. Ordinary like this.

I used to wander between dream and reality, trying to find the lost years and hope at this moment; I once looked up at the sky and stared at a lonely star; I am eager to understand the true meaning of life with my shallow thoughts. In this way, the days passed quietly through my fingers. I seem to be left in the corner of time, quietly waiting for my fate.

How many times, I reflect on myself. I think I am a contented person. Repeat the life of two points and one line every day, mechanically doing the actions of going to school, leaving school and reading. Collect parents' pocket money every day and extract knowledge from teachers every day. I always feel confused for no reason. Facing the unpredictable future, I dare not speculate what my future will be like. "Ten years of life and death, I don't think about it, I will never forget it." My mind stays somewhere. I think I may have always been like this, and I don't know what maturity is.

I wake up against the morning sun every day and fall asleep with the moonlight. I don't have much experience, and my story is only one, and that is ordinary. Leaves dancing in the breeze, dew flashing in the morning light and sparkling waves on the river will make me excited. I fell in love with the quiet night, and I could hear the rustling of leaves outside the window, as if I was the only one on the world stage. But no matter what, I am still as ordinary as a weed.

Ordinary people love to dream, and I am no exception. But why do I always have the same dream for a long time In my dream, there is always a cold and bright moon hanging in the sky, and the silver moonlight is scattered all over the earth. I bathed in it, as if I had been reborn. ...

Even if there are countless ordinary leaves in the world, we will never find the same two. Because each leaf has its own unique vein.

Tisso

Rumble ... "A thunder woke me up from my sleep. I got up and approached the windowsill, only to find that it was early morning, but the dark clouds all over the sky covered the glow of dawn, and everything seemed to be shrouded in the night. In the storm, this small town seems to be a boat drifting with the tide in the raging sea.

I was about to leave when suddenly a glimmer of light appeared in the boundless rain. I can't help thinking: Who will come out in this rainstorm? What did he go out for again? The pace of leaving suddenly stopped.

Rain falls from the sky, and the light in the rain is hidden and bright. The sky seems to gather all the forces to destroy the light in the rain curtain. As dusk approached, I vaguely saw a figure hobbling in the rain. A few minutes later, the twilight had moved downstairs, and I realized that the man was still holding a bike. But why doesn't he ride a bike? Maybe you can't even ride steadily in this storm!

"Rumble ..." There was another thunder. The wind roared and raged in the city, and the heavy rain poured down from the air, and Malik galloped. If Shixian Taibai faces this scene, he will definitely sigh that "it is suspected that the Milky Way has fallen for nine days"! Suddenly, the figure in the rain fell to the ground. The figure struggled to stand up in the rain. I can't help worrying about him. The wind kept blowing and the rain kept falling, as if to crush the man. Finally, the figure in the rain stood up slowly and followed the car to our corridor, probably to avoid the rain.

A few minutes later, I was about to go home when there was a knock at the door. I was shocked and thought: Who will come to my house in this weather? I opened the door with doubt and saw a man standing outside. The rain kept flowing down his skirt, and the water on the ground had accumulated into a stream. Looking up, the rain kept running down his face, and there was a scar on his left cheek, and blood was slowly oozing out.

I wonder who this man is. He dragged the green bag behind him to the front, only to see "China Post" printed on it. I suddenly realized that it was the postman. I saw him slowly put his trembling hand into his bag, took out a newspaper wrapped in nylon cloth, handed it to the iron railing of the gate, and smiled at me with difficulty: "Little friend, this is your newspaper." I heard zheng, tears filled my eyes. I opened the iron gate and choked on him: "Uncle, come in and take shelter from the rain!" " "He froze, with a gentle smile on his face and waved at me:" No, no, I have to deliver newspapers to other people's homes. " Then he walked slowly down the stairs.

In the stormy sky, I looked at the dim light drifting away in the distance, and tears quietly flowed down my face. ...

There are countless mortals and countless little things in life, but it is these mortal little things that touch us again and again!