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A composition entitled "unforgettable songs of those years"
Music has always been regarded as a kind of mood. When you are happy and sad, you will always look for songs that match happiness and sadness, or when you hear a piece of music, you can't help but think of those happy and sad things.

At first, there was only an old-fashioned tape recorder at home, which was big and bulky, but in order to listen to music conveniently, I moved it to my small room. That tape recorder takes up two-thirds of my desk, which makes the place where I do my homework and review my homework very narrow. My father had a big opinion about this, so I had to try my best to remove the speaker and put it at the foot under the table, so that I could play with the tape recorder at will in that little time. Although that tape recorder is old, the sound quality of the latest popular cassette tape is not inferior. I buy a tape almost every week and spend all my pocket money on it. Those who sang about my growing years, when the tapes filled a drawer full of desks, finished singing the rainy season of seventeen and sang on the last day of nineteen, the era belonging to that old tape recorder was over.

Later, I had a walkman, and it was comfortable to walk with this music on my back. I took a lot of cassettes and walkman to the university dormitory. Whenever the dead of night, I always hide under the covers, recalling the past years and listening to my own songs. I don't buy tapes that often, because as long as I tune FM to the channel recommended by my roommate, I can always hear the latest pop music.

Carrying a walkman on your back to work in a foreign land, the radio station became monotonous, and the cassettes on the market began to be less dazzling than before. Instead, there are all kinds of CDs. As there was no player, I had to take them off the shelf, look at them and put them back. As I said, I am a person who can't live without music. Trivial work, monotonous dormitory, and those old tapes that are played repeatedly are my simple life. Later, a kind colleague installed a speaker on my computer. I finally bought those CDs and put them in the office during my lunch break, but the limited time still satisfied me.

On the afternoon of my computer poisoning, a boy from a computer company took pains to come to my office a little far from downtown and reinstall my system. Maybe it's all because of the loneliness of lacking friends. After a few words, we naturally became friends. One day, he said he would give me a present. After having dinner together, I went to his dormitory, which is an independent room in a building. When you open the window, you can see the neon in the street. There is a computer with internet access in the room, and there are many computer-related accessories and books. I said that this kind of life was just a dream of mine, and I also hoped that I could play music at will and surf the Internet freely, but that kind of life was still far away from me at that time. The boy turned on the computer, played music and asked me what I liked. After I selected more than a dozen songs, he took out a Qvanxian Zhang CD and put it in the burner. While I was still listening attentively, he had carved all my favorite songs on the CD, wrapped them in a pink coat and gave them to me.

Later, I left the company and lost contact with that boy, but I still kept the CD. My favorite music is always scattered on CDs in CD shops, and only that one records my favorite music.

When I met that beautiful Shanghai woman, she was burning a CD for her distant lover. At the same time, she also recommended her burning song-Lisa Ono's beautiful new world to me. She said that burning CDs is to record a kind of mood. Because she loved those beautiful music so much, she burned the mood for her lover in a hurry. On such a beautiful night, she packed and mailed it.

I really fell in love with those songs, but it was in a fancy coffee shop. This is a log cabin, with wooden walls, wooden tables and wooden floors, all painted green and decorated very specially. In that small room, there is a mixed smell of wood and coffee, and Lisa Ono is singing in a low voice, which always reminds me of such a woman, carrying a guitar, wandering freely and singing softly in the warm Mediterranean sunshine. I spent those years in those music and fantasies, lonely and free.

At the beginning of a love, I received a gift, a small CD player with two small speakers. Finally, besides the wind, there is music flowing in my room. I began to go to CD shops frequently to search for songs that can record my mood, and sometimes I even bought an entire CD one at a time.

Who says you can't live without music? Since when, life has been busy, my mood has been disrupted, I have moved home, changed my job and taken on heavier tasks. I stay in the office until late at night every day, and my computer has been turned off for a long time. Either go to bed or go out for a stroll on weekends, ignoring the years and slipping away quietly.

A close friend called me and asked for you. I left you something while you were away. I hurried back and saw a brand-new MP3 player. Music, how far is my life from it? I already have a small room. I can see the neon of the city when I open the window, but the boy who once carved a CD for me doesn't know where he is in this city and what kind of life he is living. In addition to the beautiful new world, I bought some CDs in Lisa Ono, but my dear Shanghai friend has long been married away, and occasionally sends me photos of her new home and back garden, as well as that small CD player, which has been buried at the bottom of the box with those past events with the passing of that love.

I can't wait to connect the MP3 player to the computer, download and store my favorite songs. I realized that this kind of storage, just like burning a CD, stores a kind of mood. From the beginning to the present, the player is changing and the way is changing, and those songs that I once fell in love with or will fall in love with forever represent a mood, like a clue, pulling my thoughts and picking up dreams that have been scattered in the wind one by one.