I walked out of my hometown and broke into this school, but it seems that I have returned to my hometown. Two rows of poplars are tall and straight, like men's powerful arms. His face is pale and has deep and shallow scars. The branches are intertwined, and the leaves can't tell you from me. Only a small piece of light falls from the branches and leaves. Like the broken heart of a lost person at night. I am completely immersed in the fresh shade. My casual shoes, glued to the soil in my hometown, are itchy when I step on the shadows of trees. A few sparrows chased around and didn't take the stranger seriously at all. Half of these buildings are covered by poplars. They are a little old, even old. Just like those castles standing in fairy tales, they walked down from the pages with trembling steps. I feel like I'm on a road to fantasy. For example, dreams, I can walk into my dreams from this road. You will also feel that there is a big jungle in front of you. A jungle full of fragrant flowers and fresh fruits. This road is so strange and familiar. Walking, the figure of hometown arched out from poplar and old bricks. This road, then I walked for four years. Shortly after I arrived at school, I was anxious to see Peking University. The highest institution that has always appeared in the teacher's mouth before. I measured two schools with steps and felt mine was too small. I'm like a kannika nimtragol who was forced into the house but refused to give in, hiding in front of an unnamed lake and refusing to go back. I stood on a historic stone boat and watched the wind pass by the lake. I heard someone sitting by the water playing the flute. Unconsciously, the ancient pagoda on the other side has stood from noon to sunset, dripping blood. My imaginary school should have a piece of water, just like an unnamed lake. It really doesn't need to be too big. There are some small fish swimming around in it, a small pavilion where you can see the fish, and a long corridor with some bends at the end, which is enough. I want a place where my mind can walk. I think I'm too demanding, because my school is too demanding. It is too stingy, too tight, just like Kong Yiji's wallet, only enough to buy a dish of spiced beans. When you approach something with your heart, you will find that it hides beauty. I have been to some schools in four years. I have been to Peking University many times, and I like the Weiming Lake very much. I can skate in winter. Other schools, such as Tsinghua, have only been there once, and they no longer want to stay. It's really big. I broke out in a sweat riding a bike, which was nothing. High-rise buildings are row upon row. This street is as rough as Lu's temper in Water Margin. Being in it, I always wondered if I was still in it. I can't tell the difference between Tsinghua and the street outside. I gradually realized that the beauty of my school lies in its smallness. It's small but exquisite. It has a sense of wholeness different from the outside world. Because it is small, it is easy to grasp this sense of wholeness, and we can fully feel it. It does not dare to have Hitler's ambition, but only wants to enrich itself within its power. The students mainly live in three buildings. The boys' building is called "Prince Building" and the girls' building is called "Frog Building". The girls' building is called "Princess Building" and the boys' building is called "Dinosaur Building". This is a clever opposition, isn't it? It's a bit like the Spring Festival couplets that can be seen immediately. Later, a master's building was built for master's and doctor's residence. Short for "SB Building". It is a national key university of 2 1 1, elegant and humorous. It's a little sad to mention the dormitory. The university failed to explore the "dinosaur building" once, and Bai stayed in Jurassic for four years. However, there seems to be nothing to see. I have seen a photo of a girl's dormitory. Plush toys piled up into mountains, clothes and bras smashed into balconies, and socks and slippers spread all over Qi Fei. That scene was like a Wenchuan earthquake or an Indonesian tsunami. More exaggerated than Zhang Fei's face. At this point, I dare not say anything more, for fear of personal attacks from female students. Black hands on the road at night are hard to prevent. There is a playground between the frog building and the dinosaur building. I have never heard of the telescope submerged by locusts in Time is Like Grass. Maybe I thought it wasn't enough. This is a simple school, but it does not lose the vitality of humor. Simplicity is an intrinsic thing, in the ancient wall of the school, in the belief of every old tree, and in the broom that sweeps passers-by to get up early. In fact, it is really everywhere. The restlessness, arrogance, reverie, confusion and youth belonging to youth are all in this simplicity. After several years of edification, these students have taken away one of the most important things when they leave the school gate. Not a diploma. It's simple. There is a canteen under every dormitory building. What I can't forget is soybean milk. Freshly ground original soybean milk. It tastes of soybeans. Bragging is white and hot. Uncle who sells soybean milk always smiles. I suspect that face is a disguised sun. It also made me understand that it is not only the high sun that can bring warmth. Add two spoonfuls of sugar I don't need to say that he already knows. He has long remembered my emaciated appearance. There are already too many stories on the playground, and the stories are still being woven, just as I am typing. Someone always pushed that Yang Guifei's body. Heavy footsteps shook the dust. Came straight from the African grassland like a wild elephant. The expected number will eventually come out of this persistence. The little lovers took implicit steps, speculating each other's thoughts. Love has long been as blatant as selling. The family sat together and counted the stars hanging in the sky. The impatient child shook the drink bottle in his hand. Dad who pretends to be angry only dares to pat meat. There have been groups of people sitting around eating watermelons. Watermelon is ice. Cut off the symmetrical petals with that neat kitchen knife. My eyes are cold. I was with her that night. I was lying on my back with one leg up. Holding the guitar, she tentatively jumped out of the mood of the moon. On a snowy night, I threw that soft snowball in your face. From then on, you chased me as if I were your father's enemy. I tried to sleep on the playground all night, and finally I was bitten by a mosquito with long legs and a sharp mouth, and my plan fell through. There is a path from the dormitory to the library. This road is paved with stones. Winding like a snake. Both sides are within reach of Chinese roses, and there are some flattened evergreen trees. The Chinese rose limits me a lot. They can always pick up my dripping feelings. There are some small Woods, maybe not Woods, but lawns with some trees, and pale paths and bluestones are scattered along the roadside. Whether in winter or summer, there are usually scholars hiding in it, holding books and reading English. They are good at finding the best position, in which others will not influence themselves and they will not influence others. If it is summer, it is best to have shade and the wind can bring grass in. If it is winter, it is best to be close to the warm sunshine. They are well hidden in these Woods, just like pine cones hanging from pine branches. An old couple who got up early once sat on this wooden chair. Holding a tune and singing some old songs. Another dog chased the hostess's skirt from one end of the road to the other. There is a birdcage hanging on the branches of the roadside. It's empty. When the wind blows, it begins to sway. Maybe we can put something in it, such as love, such as dusk. It is because of the leisure that there are more possibilities. I think so, too. There is a mysterious building in the forest, which is said to be a water tower. In my opinion, it is like an ancient castle where the king lived in fairy tales. It was closed at first, only as high as the tree next to it. Later, it opened, and two stone tables were placed under the tree in front of the door, which became a cafe hidden among flowers. It took me four years to get familiar with it. It is like a mute, and won't say a word. Just silently doing what you are doing. Experienced some affectionate details, destined to be the destination of the soul. First recommend half of Kawabata's prose "Four Scenes in Early Autumn" (the first two paragraphs). Once you swim in slightly cooler water than usual, your legs and feet will look a little whiter. Is there something cold and white flowing down the blue sea? Therefore, I think autumn comes from the sea. People set off fireworks on the lawn of the garden. The girls are looking for autumn insects in the pine forest along the coast. The sound of fireworks is mixed with insects, and even the sound of flames makes people feel lonely like missing summer. I think autumn, like insects, comes from the ground. Different from July, there is only moonlight and sea breeze at night, so women quietly close their hearts. I think autumn falls from the sky. Many new signs for renting houses have been added to the seaside town. Just like the new autumn calendar page number. Autumn also comes from the color of soles and the luster of nails. Let me walk barefoot before summer comes. Hide your bare feet before autumn comes. Trim your nails in summer. Is it warmer to leave some dirty nails in early autumn? In autumn, peptide is a pillow, and my elbow is tanned. If you don't have a strong appetite in autumn, you will be a little empty. People with too thick earwax do not know autumn. In addition, I found it from the prose bar: "Poetry all the way" camphor tree, with exquisite moonlight. At nearly nine o'clock in the evening, I strolled back to my dormitory from the study room alone and passed a section of Zhangshu Avenue, which was neither too long nor too short. Spring came very late this year, and the sky has been overcast. The weather has only begun to clear up in recent days. Cinnamomum camphora flowers try their best to absorb the essence of soft spring sunshine and make them open at the end of April. They seized this late and dying spring, blooming small white petals and emitting their own unique fragrance, which filled the whole campus. On a rare sunny night, the bright moon hangs high in the sky, like the transparent bright yellow on the ground, and gently hangs on every object exposed in its arms, as if giving them an independent soul. On the ground, mottled shadows are faintly visible. Perhaps, these shadows are their souls. They wriggled gracefully in the moonlight and breeze. At this moment, they are smart. They look for the mark of their existence in the shadow and examine themselves carefully, just like a beautiful girl looking at herself in the mirror. For a long time, she seemed to be falling for herself. The wind gently brushed my cheek and brought bursts of camphor. Stand down, take a deep breath of this strange fragrance, experience the silence of the night, feel the coolness of your body, and listen to the footsteps when the wind blows. I told myself that I was living in intoxicating poetry at the moment. Here, I can forget myself and imagine myself as a spring breeze under the transparent moonlight, or as a small camphor tree flower, leaving a faint fragrance in the memory of passers-by. At first, I found that I was the only one on this road. Except for the wind, only my footsteps are left. Two rows of white street lamps on the roadside emit white light, which blends this touching night with the moon. I was suddenly moved when I watched my elongated shadow obliquely reflected on the ground. Shadow, the most loyal partner, will never leave you and will always accompany you. However, only when people are lonely in body and mind can they feel its existence and get some comfort from it. Perhaps this is the meaning of the existence of shadow, so that anyone and anything will not live alone in this world and stick to their master's side silently forever. Suddenly want to ask the shadow, has it ever felt lonely? I walked slowly, enjoying this quiet moment that belongs to the night and me. Later, not far ahead came the laughter of girls and the sound of their running, which passed me by, reminding me of the scene where the heroine insisted on running to lose weight every night in today's novel, which immersed my thoughts in the novel. Then a middle-aged couple came face to face. Maybe this is called the comfort of life. I can't help but wonder whether the boy who used to accompany me in fun run can still have such a pleasant picture when we are getting old. After a while, on the right side of the road, a couple came. The boy gently put his hand on the girl's shoulder, caring for his dream like an angel. They walked side by side, lightly stepping on the shadow of camphor trees, smelling the flowers and strolling in the fairy-tale night. Stepping on poetry all the way, unconsciously, I have quietly come to the door of the dormitory. Looking back fondly at the moonlit sky, the moon is round tonight. There should be a lot of things suitable for you in the prose bar. Go and have a look. Here is the website//sanwen8/article/youmeisanwen/201004/27284.