Looking up at the clouds

The freer things are more likely to cause sadness, such as the clouds drifting over the hometown.

The sadness in my heart starts with observing the clouds in the sky.

The small village is like a stamp that is getting older and older. I was born here, grew up here, the songs I heard were very short, the stories I heard were very old, and the flowers I saw were very short-even shorter than the flowers, it was Looking up at the clouds in the sky.

When I first started writing essays, I held a pencil in my hand and remembered the running account awkwardly: in the morning, I saw a white cloud. At lunch, I saw another white cloud. Before going to bed, I told a white cloud that I was going to bed, how about you? Do you not sleep every day?

Such a running account will only get a mediocre score (this is like my future mediocre life, lack of surprises, and lack of attention), but for a child, he cares about the clouds so much, it has shown that he is alone on the ground, his The mind has gradually opened, which can let the wind in and the cloud in. Soon the wind has to blow away the cloud, let him be nostalgic, let him be melancholy, and let him walk after cloud after cloud. , Drifting and disappearing, I learned early about the wandering of dreams and the mistiness of years.

Clouds are home in the sky, and homes are like homes. The clouds I see in the morning will not be the clouds passing by at lunch. The clouds I saw before going to bed seem familiar, but they are still unfamiliar-I know I can’t name each cloud, and I can’t keep any one from drifting past my hometown. Clouds; the more similar they look, the clearer the difference. Today I will never see the clouds of yesterday, and tomorrow-I will not be able to wait for the clouds in my dreams or the clouds I want to see in the future. The clouds are fleeting, regrettable, and nostalgic. I want to let the moment be eternal, telling a snow-like cloud, a pattern cloud, please bring the heart of a young boy, go to the high sky, and go far away that can never fly.

Even sadness is sweet sadness.

Sometimes, clouds will accumulate in my heart like sticky honey. When I hear the wind, I will tremble, look up at the clouds, and I will cry. I know that my small village will not mail me away. In the future, I will mail me away. It will make me look like a wind that can’t see me, and it will make me feel like a wandering cloud. Sure enough, not long after I reached junior high school, I left my parents and my hometown and went to study in a different place. Since then, I have become a stranger who is bound by homesickness despite being free and unruly. I am a cloud that can’t return to my hometown. I pray year after year that the wind of destiny should not blow too much, and don’t blow me away. I like to bask in the sun like a cloud, while melting the honey in my heart, revealing the golden light and exuding the sweet smell.

The teenager who likes to look up at the clouds is often a person. Although there are many clouds in the sky, he cannot share them with other children. The clouds covered the sky, infinitely vast, but he always felt that it was his private territory. The sky is far wider than the ground, the clouds are far more open than the flowers, but he is still small and narrow, he likes the clouds but he is worried that others will pull a small cloud of clouds like tearing cotton, he seems to be protecting the integrity of the clouds, he knows that he does not want to possess A cloud also does not allow others to covet them.

Life in a small village is extremely hard. Adults spend far less time working than looking up at the clouds. They are familiar with the ups and downs of the hills, but they are not familiar with the uplift of the clouds; they can tell the color change of the ears of wheat, but they can’t answer the redness of the burning clouds. They don’t even want to climb trees, and they don’t stretch their arms. The clouds in the sky… The clouds are too vague, without the earth, it is difficult to grasp.

The teenager began to bear the weight of life early, but his bones were not completely petrified, his body was soft and elastic, he stood on the soil, but he did not forget to look up at the clouds. He has always loved the sky, he will look at the sky when he is holding a sickle to cut pig grass, he will look at the sky when picking water to water the fruit trees, he will also look at the sky when he gathers the corn on the roof of the cottage… Looking up at the sky, he felt that the daylight was not complete, and there was a lack of color and oxygen when sleeping at night. He loves the greatness of the sky and the mystery of the sky. He also wants to be happy for the clouds. It is the sky that frees them, and the sky takes them in, allowing them to grow without roots and fly without wings. It is the sky that makes the clouds endless, and it is the sky that makes the pride of the clouds endless.

I have been listening to stories and reading comic books since I was very young. Although I was a little late in school, I cherish books more than any child in a small village. At that time, books were scarce. I often envy my family as a thief. people. If my childhood was not happy enough, it was only because I did not have a few decent books. For two years, I thought the book was really bad, I made the book myself, but I still couldn’t satisfy my desire. I finally felt the weight of the soil and the suffocating poverty. I started to wobble when I walked, and walked on my feet with no movement-I wanted to fly like a bird in the sky; I started to practice tree climbing, the higher the climb , Deeper and deeper, I hid myself, but I tried to get closer to the sky and the clouds in the sky.

It seems that the height can let me breathe, it seems that the wind and clouds can soothe my depression and anxiety.

If you can’t look down at the book, then look up at the cloud. Cloud is the protagonist of the sky, and the sky is written about the changes of the clouds, and that is another big book. The blue sky is the best cover of this big book, and the towering and holy clouds leave one fascinating title on the cover. There are thunder and electricity in the book, light and night, wind and rain and rainbow in the book completed in spring and summer, and frost and snow in the book completed in autumn and winter-there are fairy elves and palaces and palaces that are not on the ground…oh In the sky, there are fantasy dreams, and there are also vast singing voices, where there is joy and sorrow, and there is a distance that can not be far away.

The dreams that grow out of the soil rise to the clouds, and only then can one complete the imagination. Myths are born in the sky and fairy tales are born in the clouds. Because I like to look up at the sky and see the clouds, I will daydream more than other children in small villages, and I will be more attracted to stories that are too old to grow old. I got another kind of wealth, and I have the continuous happiness (including the sorrow everywhere) that my imagination ripples.

However-can the teenager say that he is a child of dirt and a darling of the sky?

“Looking up at the moon, looking down at the hometown.” Looking up at the sky and looking at the cloud will never take longer, more than looking down at the hometown and worrying about the future, and the sky does not spoil any cloud: there is no eternal one there. There is no cloud with a crown of luck. Each cloud will turn into rain, snow, water in flowers and trees, or water still dedicated to the sea.

A teenager will soon grow up, and will soon be taken away to look up at the clouds. The road that appears on the dirt will soon drive him away from his hometown, further and further away.

The thought of today’s cloud is just today’s cloud, and the wind at this moment is just the wind at this moment. I feel very excited. I want to cry in peace and sing aloud. I don’t know why, and I fell in love with the soil again, as well as the hills, fields, fields, villages, rivers, and folks who sweated and bowed their heads in the soil. I want to give my parents more hugs and say thank you to an old elm tree. My hands are stroking the lambs in the fence. It’s like exchanging the warmth in cotton. I’m more willing to give them more grass, well water and salt.

The clouds in the sky will not wait for anyone. The clouds merge into the sky at night, but the stars are revealed. When the stars are waiting for someone, the person is sleeping and dreaming. After dawn, he will see that it will soon float. Lost clouds. The clouds are the most beautiful when they are like white snow, and the warmest when they are like cotton. They can also be stained with rose red, lilac purple, and fantasy dreams, but there are more gray clouds, and the dark clouds are rolling and surging. Impressed; when the clouds and mist are winding around the mountain peaks, you can still see that when you climb up the mountain, they rise to the sky, leaving only the wind, and you can neither play it intimately nor catch it.

The freedom of the cloud makes people sad and sober.

One cloud may merge into another cloud, but it will eventually come out intact, continue to float, and continue to travel.

Looking up at the cloud but not tracking a cloud, I developed this helpless habit rather than being clever. The grace and calmness of a teenager also starts from this habit.

There are also times when we share the sky with people. For example, at sunset, when the sky is full of clouds, we sit quietly, breathe together, meditate or admire together. You can share it with a partner, or with a farm cow or a group of sheep that you graze. The more things that no one can possess, the more they can share with each other, like the vast sky, like the magnificent Yunxia.

Children who can look up at Yun are happy, and people who can share the sunset and Yunxia with others are naturally happy.

When you look up and see that the cloud is also tired, lie down comfortably, sturdy, and touch the cool grass and warm soil. Although the “stamp” is small, you still have a clear texture in your hometown. With the support of the mud in your hometown, you will temporarily forget the weight of the bones and the clumsiness of the legs and feet, let the feelings rise with the wind, and become lighter with the clouds in the sky, let the heart give birth to wings, and also float and relax in the sky. Come and go.

The longer you lie, the more the dirt in your hometown can contain and store your sorrow.

The most pleasant thing is to lie on the ground like this, and you can see the clouds without looking up. In the embrace of the mud in my hometown, I will always be a child and a teenager. Even if my heart is sad, the smell of the earth will comfort me for a long time, let me carry the vitality of the grass and the joy of the fruit, as if a tree stands up, looking at the distance, I will send myself to my dream and let others Read from it to the wind, read to the cloud, read to the broken and complete, read to the past and look back, read the reflection in the tears and the different sky on the stamp.

“Yun wants clothes and flowers”, if a teenager can put on clothes made by Yun, then he can write a good story dedicated to his hometown-when he returns to his hometown, the clouds in the sky will also Look down at him.