Like a warm ballad, an old story, an elegant and ethereal dream, I often think of the days related to letters.
Receiving and writing letters was the most intoxicating thing in those days. Like to display the paper and pen when that gentle feeling. Sitting by the window, watching the pale yellow moon slowly climb the treetops, listening to the sound of tiny insects rendering boundless tranquility, thousands of words surging up in my heart. Far away, singing, cheering, crying, teasing, talking, whispering. Between the mind and the heart Serviced apartment Central, there is a bridge flying unimpeded. Emotion and emotion merge into a happy stream. The heart is like a sail full of wind, that kind of bloated feeling is called satisfaction.
The happiest moment is the moment when you receive a letter. Hide in a corner in a half-hidden surprise, in someone else's or envious or jealous eyes, open the envelope carefully, and shake out the paper. The words on the letter may not be beautiful, but the host's breath comes with it, and the warmth of the moment fills the air. The words on the letter may not be sweet, but they are always read and read over, like a meaningful olive. The smell of olives will permeate the next not short period of time, every time the aftertaste of the heart will be a smile, laugh others inexplicable.
The most precious letter was from my mother. I didn't go home for two weeks because my work unit was far away from home and the road was winding. Uneducated mother to check the old newspapers, a single trace of her life the only letter: "the money the rest assured don't mailed to keep flowers don't have to miss home quite good." Holding the letter and looking at the crooked pencil, my tears welled up serviced apartments hong kong. In tears, I seemed to see my mother busy in the field, the white sunlight jumping on her hair with grass leaves; It was as if I had seen my mother holding a large armful of dew-dripping oxen grass. I seemed to see my mother standing in front of the old locust tree overlooking the distance, the daughter's road is her forever watchful direction. Read the letter over and over until every word is engraved on your heart. I cried again and again until my mother and hometown walked into my dream.
The most unforgettable letter I wrote was to a friend who had dropped out of school. I couldn't help writing her a long letter when she came back to a remote village with a broken dream and the shock of failing so many exams. The letter ends with the naive earnestness and passion of the students: "one door closes, and another opens. In this door you will find a better world. Years later I received her reply Aqua Peel. She told me that life had really opened another door for her, and now she had her own small business and happy family. She added that she would always remember the end of the letter. As I read the letter, I smiled, tears streaming down my cheeks. Ah, will those innocent days, those back-to-back days of warm hearts still come?
There was a time when I was far away from writing letters, and there was a time when I felt the urge to write again. On a New Year's day many years ago, I wrote a letter to a classmate I had never met. Every word is the crystal water drops from the spring of life. However, when I carefully folded the letter into the shape of a dove, I hesitated -- did my friend still have a little shadow of me in his memory? Have you ever left a trace of me in your friend's life? In an age of mobile phone text messaging and email flying around the world, can this homely, silly letter find its place? Send an email instead, I advise myself. I tore the letter apart in pain and wrote the words "how are you after so many years? Looking at the standard computer font, my friend, can you think of my voice and smile? Can you taste the thousand missing words?
The rapid development of society has changed the pace of people's life and accelerated their progress. The rapid development of modern information technology has condensed the splendor of the world and shortened the distance between people. As a beneficiary, I like this luck and opportunity, and I am an active practitioner. However, I don't appreciate the overly formatted and simplified lifestyle. Of course the letter will never be written again. After running away from the origin for a long time, everyone went to different places in a hurry. There was no one who wanted to talk to him a lot. Also realized that there are a lot of people in some years, feeling is reluctant to have to pretend to be ripe, even if there are people who want to speak is not good again noisy buzz, now the attitude of the specification should be static water flow, if the heart still alive, and had to surge in dark place.
But I still miss the days when I could write. No matter how The Times change, how wonderful life, still like the deep years of those clear days. No matter what my external appearance is, I will still be the most natural self in my heart.