City living room

mélanges de parfums huiles essentielles

  In the city where I live, I always grow flowers and flowers, and I don’t see grass. The flowers bloomed and were smashed; the grass was dried and died, and was cut as a feed for sheep and rabbits. During the grass season, I often saw gardeners remove expensive turf from the truck and lay it on the side of the road, paving the gardens of the big and small. However, the fate of the grass is still as it used to be, and the residents have been looking forward to it again and again, looking forward to fail again and again. It seems that even the garden workers lost confidence in the city’s ability to grow green.

  In front of my building, there was a small piece of forged bricks, white ash and yellow sand, which were forgotten in one or two years. The dry winds of spring, the heavy rains of summer, and the snow in the harsh winter make them even more messy. People want to go around but can’t get around. The soles are covered with loess and sand. When they enter the building, they are forced to rub on the concrete floor at the entrance of the building. They complain with the neighbors: this soil, the sand, this white ash. For a while, complaining for a while, walking into the home to step on the dirty floor, the table and chairs and the balcony still covered with fine dust. The rubble only brought anger and anger to the people, which cut off the normal communication of people in peace. People are looking forward to this place to be green. I often think that the green and large gardens are the size of a living room in the city. Few people sit in the comfortable living room with anger.

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Kevin’s pursuit

  In 2010, I filmed a documentary about the lives of AIDS orphans in Kisumu, Kenya’s third largest city. In a muddy alley, the guide took us through rows of muddy huts. Stop in front of the faded green door and knock on the door.

  A handsome, lean, short-cut teenager walked into my sight. He looked at us cautiously and said in a local dialect: “Carib (welcome).” He led us into the low house. Clay walls, paper-filled windows, in addition to a kerosene lamp and a few books, a small wooden table and several chairs occupy most of the interior.

  The boy is Kevin, 12 years old. His father died five years ago. He lived alone after his mother died two years ago. In Kenya, there are more than 1 million AIDS orphans like Kevin, and there are 15 million AIDS orphans worldwide.

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Five people met in heaven

  A playground repairman named Eddie, on his 83rd birthday, in an accident, he lost his life in order to save a little girl. Eddie has been unhappy before his death, and his self-evaluation is very low: “My life is nothing, and there is no good job, that is, an amusement park repairman who has no interest.” In fact, when Eddy was young, he had his own life plan. He always wanted to wait until he had saved enough money to study and then become an engineer.

  The story began after Eddie’s death. After the death, Eddie’s soul went out into heaven. In heaven, he met five people in turn.

  A stranger, an acquaintance, a person who has hurt him, a person he loves deeply, and a person who has been hurt by him. They represent the five important stages of his life and represent the true meaning of life.

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Childhood gimmick

  Today’s happy life makes me happy, but sometimes my heart will also have a bitter childhood.

  At that time, the mother pulled me and my sister, and the family was so cynical. I am at the Murakami Elementary School, five miles away. The six-year-old sister is cooking at home and cooking, carrying the bamboo raft that is half the height of her, and playing the pig’s grass. The mother gets up early and earns her work. The days are as poor as a string of dry air. Cage flowers.

  At the age of sixty-one, the school said it was to celebrate Children’s Day, and each student made three gimmicks. I am excited to say to my mother: Tomorrow’s hair, one sister, one mother, one of my sisters laughed, and the mother laughed.

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Water name

  I stood next to my grandfather and watched him use a long, curved branch to sway in the stream. Each time it is swiped, it will arouse layers of ripples. When it first appears, it will be washed down by the stream.

  ”Grandpa, what are you doing?” I asked him.

  ”I am living,” he said.

  ”Grandpa, I know that you are living, I am asking you what to do with that branch?” I am not satisfied with his answer.

  ”I am reminding myself.”

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