Memory traveling bag for a period of time.

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Why do people always love memories? Because it is the experience of life.

When we are accustomed to the rapid and fast pace, we will slow down in remembering a certain thing.

The lilac sycamore petals were blown down by the wind and fell on the boardwalk, laying a thick layer of fragrance. Steps on the petals, will make the mood become cozy, soft.

"Reed reed, white dew for frost. The so-called Iren, in the water side." Slightly autumn wind blowing, in a misty fog, where is the beloved one? The original in my dream, in my memory. I was desperately searching for that beautiful and sacred back in my dream.

We would always spare some time to flip through a book or touch it. It was as if we had touched that ancient silent history of a thousand years ago, the words that were as thin as falling flowers in the shadow of the flowers under the moon.

I like the name "Kawakawa". When I think of the river, I think of "the wind blowing rain at the end of the night, the iron horse icy river into the dream" that the scene of the iron horse leaping over the icy river came to my dream again.

A bowl of sweet and savory millet porridge, permeated by a strong "country flavor", as if the memory of a piece of golden rice described the joy of the autumn harvest. A small sparkling lake, fish in the water happily swimming around, spitting out the water interesting. Those are the memories of home, and now when I look back, when the road is just ordinary.

My grandmother was an old cook, and I loved the smell of home in her cooking, so warm and familiar. Her white hair, her wrinkles, all permeated her worry. And her calloused hands are so warm and solid. I still remember, she wore glasses, hand in hand to teach me to read, write the scene. Her old, fuzzy back, the kind, familiar words in my heart, in my memory.

Frustration. Difficulties. Persistence. Do not forget.

Life all the way around, a lot of frustration, a lot of difficulties, but the memories are beautiful. Years like a song, life adds up, but also can not play all the songs, and your life, but in the song penetration. When I meet difficulties, I always secretly tell myself---How can you bebraveif only wonder fulthing shappen to you?(If only wonderful things happen in your life, how can you become strong?)

Holding on is the truth, but let us not forget the memory of the beginning.