I do not know when to begin, to learn about the memory of the home to collect into travelling bag, a people migrate. Walk, and tired, not the years old, just the far away, the hometown deeply perception that feeling, came in a hurry.
Remember the young lake, and that flowed in the legend of the Poyang Lake. Young, I often with friends in the lake frolicking and also often from the village, the old man to hear about those little drops of Poyang lake. The story of the childhood has largely forgotten, but those on the hometown, but some kind of emotion in the annual rings of time under the more bright.
I was bent on that the gorgeous sunset or color, that is unique scenery. Poyang lake The setting sun, the remainder are numerous other delectable, reflection on the lake, far away, as if the whole lake look covered with a thick layer of golden general. If there is a cool breeze blows, and the shimmering lake in scale and in time and space of crisscross brewed illusion to the sky and the earth, the setting sun, clouds and water and rosy clouds, you had already points clearly are dreams or reality. That feeling is particularly vivid, in that came away from his hometown of some ten years later, I still can clearly remember.
Study on the journey, the taste of home is years from fades. I often a person, staring at the night sky quietly, watching it hit a bright moon stunned, looking at, but to tears flow. Only a few years this of the foreign, greatly small snow also seen many, can seem to never find a childhood that sense, that the taste of home, really far away. Until yesterday, mother telephoned me that said, snow, a lot of Poyang lake snow.
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2011年7月19日星期二
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