In your daily study, work or life, you often see prose, right? Prose is a narrative literary genre that expresses true feelings and has a flexible writing style. How to write a prose that is “dispersed in form but not separated in spirit”? Below are my carefully compiled essays for February 2. Welcome to read and collect them. Prose on February 2, Part 1
When I was a child, the New Year started with Laba and lasted until February 2. The children look forward to it and count the days on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month.
As the end of the year, February 2 is as important as the Chinese New Year in the minds of adults and children. You have to get up early on this day. If you get up late, you will be laughed at by adults for having dragon pimples on your face, which will turn into annoying freckles in the future. Everyone has a love for beauty. For the sake of beauty, the dolls get up earlier than any other day. In fact, as we all know, the dragon is just a legend, it is the belief and totem of our nation. On February 2, after the Waking of Insects, everything revives. The legendary dragon wakes up on this day, bringing hope and beauty to people. The plan for the year begins with spring. The so-called dragon's daddy is just a white lie told by adults. The purpose is to help the baby develop good habits from an early age and cherish time and the present. The water on this day is called holy water, which can cure all diseases. People take baths and get haircuts, make tea and cook, and express gratitude. But for children, none of this matters, what matters is celebrating the holidays. What is the festival? The children will say in unison: There is something delicious!
In those years of material scarcity, festivals were very attractive to children. Before February 2, the children had already read "February 2, the dragon raises its head, and every household fried beans and killed the rooster." Eat meat noodles and carry a cage around from house to house." The memorization is very familiar. On this day, my aunt held the delivery cage to see her grandson coming. Under the cover, there are crispy chess beans, sweet popcorn, and crunchy peas, green beans, corn beans. On this day, the great-aunt's basket is a weapon for the children to show off. You eat my chess beans and I taste your popcorn, so there is a song "carrying a cage from house to house".
On February 2, the biggest temptation for children is popcorn. There is a saying in my hometown that eats and grabs food. For urchins, the greatest pleasure is eating and grabbing food. The temptation of one person's mouth making ten people's teeth sour is the biggest charm of eating and grabbing food. Perhaps, only the popcorn on the streets on February 2 can satisfy children's childishness and desire.
At the end of the first lunar month every year, this activity of all-people joining forces kicks off in every household. Smoke was rising over the town, and the housewives were showing off their skills, busy frying chess beans, and the job of popcorn was the exclusive preserve of the Boy Scouts. There was a constant banging sound in the streets and alleys. The sound was like thunder cannons set off during the New Year. It was full of passion and temptation. Anyone who heard it would be moved by it. Throughout the town, the air was filled with an alluring fragrance, which could be smelled even across several alleys. The fragrance instantly makes your saliva flow, making your mouth full of saliva. Adults and naughty children stopped to listen, figured out the direction and then rushed home happily. Because of the festival, adults also become generous. He took the money from the adults, grabbed a few handfuls of grain from the granary, hurriedly picked up the snakeskin bag and ran after the sound, swallowing saliva all the way. From a distance, I saw a long line of troops, like soldiers who had lost a battle. They stood dejectedly behind the line, muttering in a low voice while stretching their long necks and looking left and right.
Looking at the long queue, the happiest person is the popcorn master. There was a popcorn machine that was as black as a cannon on the fire, and his big face under the locomotive hat was so scorched by the smoke that he looked like Bao Gong, an opera singer. He looked at the furnace and the timetable expressionlessly. Whoever's turn it is next to the master will blow the bellows. In front of everyone, the broken man pulling the bellows was like a general returning in triumph. The master was shaking the popcorn machine while using small carbon to add carbon. Everyone's focus was on the master. If they see the popcorn maker standing up, the team will start to stir up a commotion. The timid ones will cover their ears and retreat, while the bold ones will cover their ears and rush forward. With a loud "bang", a cloud of white smoke rose up, and the hot and fragrant popcorn was like a bursting river. The alluring aroma made saliva flow out. There are always restless popcorn popping out from the interface between the popcorn machine and the sack, flying around like a goddess scattering flowers. Visually observing the direction in which the cornflowers fell, a group of urchins cheered and chased them away. They quickly stuffed the ones they grabbed into their mouths, deliberately clicking their mouths and laughing slyly, with a mixture of pride, disdain and provocation in their eyes. Those who didn't grab it turned back in frustration, fearing that someone would join the team while they were away.
If you happen to meet an acquaintance, wink and jump a few levels with a snakeskin bag in your hands.
Hey! Why! Why! Oh, who's going backwards? Go backward! You arrived late and served the bowl early. Do you think you are the emperor’s second father? ! The group behind them attacked. Being thin-skinned and unable to withstand criticism from others, he returned to his original position with a red face and a dejected look, carrying the snakeskin bag. If you are thick-skinned, you will pretend to be deaf and dumb, put your hands on your hips, and look like a dead pig who is not afraid of boiling water. If neither party takes it easy, the verbal battle will be followed by a physical fight. Ladera was able to persuade her, and the noisy scene seemed to be in Huaguo Mountain. Only the master could calm down the scene. With a roar that was as intimidating as a great sage, the soldiers immediately dispersed and returned to their respective positions, guarding the pots and pans filled with grains as if they were guarding a position.
Time flies by in the sound of bang bang bang, and night comes quietly in the sound of snatching. The master lit the lantern, and the fire became brighter in the night. The night was getting deeper and deeper, and every ten minutes, a loud noise would be heard in the sky above the town, but under the loud noise, there was no team of people looting.
It’s February 2nd of another year. With the improvement of material life, my great-aunt’s delivery cage has become a thing of the past. Every February 2nd, major supermarkets have holiday counters with a wide variety of snacks, including chess beans, peas and green beans in various flavors for everyone to choose from. With the modernization of agriculture, there are no more wheat straws in front of and behind each house, no more smoke in the sky over the town, and even the folk songs of February 2 have become lonely. Only the rice-flass machine that rotates in time sings eternal songs in the annual rings of the years, but the spectacular scene of the year can no longer be seen - the long queue, and the cheerful army of looters... February Part 2 of Prose 2
Winter, just like this, slowly fades out of people’s sight reluctantly. Although there is still some cold weather in spring, it is almost early spring after all, and everything is beginning to recover.
February in early spring is a season destined to give birth to vitality. It is not as refreshing as March when the grass is growing and the orioles are flying; nor is it as lingering as April when the flowers are all dancing; but it is gentle and graceful. you! There is no graceful and graceful side, just like a cup of clear tea, it is light and elegant, which makes people think and aftertaste.
Was it God’s will to meet you? The one-on-one relationship can no longer help each other. In this reality of drinking and drinking lantern riddles, the unexpected emotions sometimes feel like a dream. Just like a spring swallow cutting through the water, it passes over the heart lake lightly. The moment its tail flies across, the sparkling light begins to ripple in the heart lake.
I don’t believe in Buddha, but Buddha still uses his broad mind to give us the opportunity to meet. This may be the fate of you and me in our previous lives! Even if I look back thousands of times in the vast sea of ??people, in the end I just pass by without stopping. I happened to meet you in February this early spring, and I had to re-examine myself with a grateful heart.
As a song goes: Meeting you is my destiny! Although some encounters are not perfect, since we have the chance to meet, we should know and cherish each other.
Do you remember the night you went to Binjiang? Following some of your past events, I slowly understood you. You are a gentle and pleasant woman on the outside, but full of vicissitudes of life on the inside. Your tears by the river wetted the night and my heart.
An intimate netizen once said to me: Love is hard and tiring! But I'm not afraid. True love must withstand the passing of time and the baptism of time.
This February in early spring breeds new vitality and true love. May we join hands with each other forever! February 2 Prose Part 3
It’s the last week of February. No, it should be the last day of February. No, it should be the last fourteen hours of February. It's still wrong, because when I thought there were still fourteen hours left, time has slipped away quietly, and I don't know how many seconds and minutes have been lost. Minutes and seconds fly by, and I, a person who is not good at arithmetic, am asked how to tell exactly how many minutes and seconds are left at all times. Time is really inconsiderate, let alone caring. Forget it, stop worrying about it. Arguments come and go, and I am always the loser.
I will be a complete loser, struggling is in vain. Time flows like water and cannot be held back. When you raise your eyes, it is in the sky; when you lower your eyebrows, it covers the earth with colorful clothes. With just one glance, silver threads appeared on my temples and grooves appeared on my forehead. How could I dare to look at it? It promises peach blossoms with three thousand crimson colors, it promises weak willows with thousands of green ribbons, it promises pear blossoms as numerous as snow, but it does not allow me to be childlike and young, so ruthless.
When the love gets deeper, the love becomes weaker. Maybe, it’s just that I have lost its deep love. The years are passing by in a hurry, but I still ask myself whether I have lost my original intention. As I walk, I don’t know where I am going or where my heart is. Although the autumn moon and spring breeze are not easy, I have finally gotten used to it. After all, I have never realized a few truths, and I am still so stupid, so ignorant, and so confused. I can't help but ask: When will we suddenly have enlightenment?
The sky outside the window is still a little gray, with a layer of clouds spreading lightly, and the sunlight leaking down in strands, soft and lazy. I couldn't help but approach the window and caress its slightly soft and cute face. The touch seemed to be there, only the palm lines were vertical and horizontal, and I didn't know what kind of waves I wanted to describe. Some people say that the texture in the palm is a reflection of the destiny of life, but I can't see the reason at all. The other hand caressed it, and a rough touch penetrated through the fingertips and reached the bottom of my heart. I couldn't help but feel a little moved. The traces of life will never fade away, the roads traveled are engraved in those palm prints, and time will stay here forever.
In the distance, a touch of plain yellow is mixed among the lush green and green, giving off a strong sense of spring. The flowers on the Moshang are blooming brilliantly, and the spring breeze suddenly turns gentle. It is true that the scenery of Jiangnan is beautiful. I think about the flowers blooming everywhere, the spring day full of poetry, and the words on the paper have lost their former sonority and become a little more tender. I copy a few hints of spring like crazy, but the depth of spring is still outside the plain paper. Thousands of words are not worth the rippling spring water of a river.
The sunlight crept across the window sill and lay lazily on the ground, looking extremely docile. If you can encounter such sunshine every day, your heart will be a little softer. At least, the darkness hidden in the nooks and crannies can become a little brighter with a little sunlight. Year after year, there will finally be a bright and clear day. Unfortunately, there is no sunshine every day. It is often rainy, and even my heart is wet. Living in the south of the Yangtze River, I have long been accustomed to such humidity, so I don't mind it very much.
I glanced at the calendar, looking from the 1st to the 28th. The humidity of the past came fiercely, but fortunately, I wore a lot of clothes and the sun was shining on me, so I didn’t feel cold at all. The chill that had cascaded over those days may have dissipated under this ray of sunshine. As soon as the spring breeze was ironed, there was a dense warmth and a bit of refreshment.
The ancients said: When traveling in spring, apricot blossoms will blow all over your head. Such a good season and such a good spring should not be wasted. It's better to be more free and easy, bid farewell to the coldness and gloom of February, and return to March feeling refreshed. There is no need to wet the ink with a brush. Poetry starts from the branches and composes a song of apricot blossoms and sky shadows. February 2 Prose Chapter 4
The weather is still cold, and the taste of spring is still in the smoke of the fireworks. Only the dark red firecracker shavings are clearly hanging on the dead wicker branches. , it proudly shows to everyone who passes by it the glory that once belonged to its era. Of course, the same dark red color is now scattered in the streets and alleys of this newly awakened person.
Stepping on the damp and cold air, mixed with the smell of gunpowder, the cold temperature repeatedly stimulated passers-by, raising their collars and hiding their eyes behind the white mist. The city, I don’t know when, started to become like this fog, gray and gray. Cars passed by at high speed, picking up a curled dead leaf on the roadside. He raised his head and looked at the nearest tree. The trunk twisted and stretched toward the sky. It was no longer covered by leaves. The shape of the tree was clearly visible to people. They still vaguely remembered the time when the pink willows were red and the willows were green. Under the sky at that time , full of green appearance.
In the distance, rows of square buildings are gathered together densely. In the season when there is no shelter, they become more and more restless. Large and small windows are either opened or blocked, which is every day. personal belonging. During the day, I still don’t realize that at night, the red or white lights have already replaced the stars and the moon and become an indispensable chain in the night, tightly binding those people or things who are willing or unwilling to return. Locked together without mercy.
I suddenly remembered my childhood, the same roadside, the same distance, there were tall sycamores on the roadside, and the old house in the mist and rain in the distance, but the lights behind the windows were warm. Definition, the sky at that time was clear and quiet with a little sadness, as if I saw the same position several years later, but could no longer understand the moonlight. Just like facing the same person, but can no longer understand his heart.
The old house has disappeared forever in the depths of my memory. I tightly grasped the piece of moon that belongs to my heart, and walked persistently under the gray tree, with the moon in my palm. This dead leaf slowly grows old together with the light.
February 2 Prose Part 5
I still remember that I liked to set off firecrackers when I was still wearing open crotch pants. Now that I am no longer confused, this preference still does not change. I never thought that this "hobby" would be inherited. My son is now a sophomore in high school, and in the drawer of his room, even though the Spring Festival is far away, I can still find several types of fireworks, as well as a ceremonial cannon that he modified from a pump. . Especially when I go back to the countryside on Sundays, I occasionally set off firecrackers, which still disturb the neighborhood like a naughty child.
I went home a few days ago, chatted with him about studying, and suggested that he should give up this "hobby" because he had gone far away during the Spring Festival. Unexpectedly, he said: "Wouldn't it be released on February 2nd?" I couldn't help but laugh.
I understood that what he meant by setting off firecrackers on February 2 was what my mother said about exploding bug eyes. Every year on the morning of February 21st, the first thing my mother does after getting up is to set off a string of whips and then take out a basket of plant ashes from the stove. Then he took out a long-handled shovel and shoveled a shovel of ash from the basket. He stood in the center of the courtyard, used the flat-end shovel hard, and slowly turned his body with his feet as a dot. In an instant, a circle appeared. Then jump out of this circle and draw several circles tangent to this circle.
My mother said, this is a food village.
Whenever my mother drew a circle, I was still in bed. What I do after I get up is set off firecrackers, but I do it casually. Sometimes I throw the lit firecrackers into the neighbor's pig pen or chicken coop. At this time, I usually get scolded, but I ran away and hid by another haystack to continue doing bad things.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m too bad or because the neighbor named “Long” bullied me. I didn’t do anything, but they still said I was bad. I did bad things, and he was the one who complained the most. both. One year on February 2nd, which seemed to be Sunday, I was still lying in bed in a daze, when three "dragons" came to my bed and boasted about the "grain village" in front of my house. I dismissed it and boasted that I could draw circles too. Unexpectedly, he smiled evilly and said, "The circles in your house are round, but they were painted by someone."
I got up and saw that several circles in front of the door had been painted completely by someone's feet. . I asked if it was him who did it, but the three "dragons" said it was not him anyway, and smiled mischievously. I told my mother who was cooking, and she said disapprovingly: "Just paint it, it doesn't matter, just have a good harvest next year."
I played with the three "dragons" until noon, and gave him a Little clay figurine, who knew that he would reveal the secret of the morning because of this - the gray "liangtun" was actually destroyed by his second brother. I ran to his house and asked the second "dragon" to reason with me. Who knew that this guy was bigger than me and despised me as if he was challenging me. I gave him a cold look and turned around to his courtyard. As soon as I unbuttoned my pants, there was a long stream of urine facing the gray circle. Suddenly, the gray circle blurred and urine flowed horizontally.
The two "dragons" rushed towards me immediately, trying to fight with fists and kicks, but I ducked sideways. He chased me and seemed to want to beat me. But how could his somewhat bloated figure catch up with me? I ran and stopped, teasing him to continue chasing, but he was helpless. I heard three "dragons" talking to his mother from a distance about the fact that "Liangtun" was flushed with my urine, and his mother seemed to be cursing. However, I stood far away as a victor, shaking my head proudly.
In fact, many of my memories at that time were related to hunger. Regarding the gray circle "grain village" that adults refer to, my current understanding is that February 2 is the time when thousands of trees are revived. What ordinary people look forward to is nothing more than a good harvest in the fields and the eyes of insects being blown blind. A good harvest of food will cause less harm.
As for the matter of peeing into the gray circle when I was a child, I excitedly asked San "Dragon" last year, but I never expected that he had forgotten all about it. I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. February 2 Prose Part 6
If we are asked to recall some beautiful things, sometimes you won’t be able to bear it. Because the more beautiful things in your memory may be where you feel the most sadness and pain. These places are probably the same. I think they must have originated from a certain age when you were young a long time ago, and they often exist permanently somewhere in our hometown.
On the second day of the second lunar month every year in Shaodian Township, the hinterland of the Central Plains, in that land rich in wheat and rapeseed flowers, a grand gathering for the entire township will surely take place. If I were asked to remember the first time I attended this kind of temple fair, to be honest, I was too young to remember at that time, but I remember the last time I attended the temple fair.
It was the fourth day of the second lunar month in 1999, the spring equinox, a sunny day. Now that I think about it, I was very adventurous when I was a child. I got up very early, at the urging of my parents, picked up the change I had saved, and rode my bike quickly to the temple fair alone. Since I didn’t have breakfast, I went to the temple fair and had a big bowl of fried jelly and a big bowl of fried dumplings. These two beautiful flavors in my memory, I think I will never forget them even when I grow old.
What I remember is the bustling and scattered scene, the big stage, and the old people watching the play underneath. There were loud shouts at the entrance of the circus, and there were beautiful girls at the entrance of the song and dance troupe. It's strange. The weather in my memory was obviously very sunny that day, but if you really replay these scenes in your mind, everything will be gray and white. I think this must be the most real and profound beautiful impression that time has faded away from all the boring colors.
I remember that day clearly because it was my birthday on the solar calendar. I was born on the vernal equinox, so I think my birthday is a good holiday. So I kicked my own mind and wanted to buy myself a birthday gift at the temple fair. I walked from the south of the street to the north of the street, but I didn't find anything good.
At that time, life in the countryside was barren, and it was difficult to find exquisite and beautiful objects. I think what existed might have been made in China at that time. Just as I was about to leave, I found an old man pushing a cart filled with scattered exquisite jade items. Perhaps it was the story of jade that has been passed down by Chinese people for thousands of years. I thought I should spend a lot of money to buy one. After choosing for a long time, I chose one in the shape of a gossip.
I asked about eight yuan, but I only had five yuan in my pocket. That was also the pocket money that I had worked hard to save for a long time. So I told the old man how much I liked this object and so on. I forgot the specific details, but in the end I bought it for five yuan. Riding on the bike heading home, I was actually happy for a long time.
Life is like this. Without realizing it, it will be difficult for you to see the beautiful things that you thought you would take for granted in the rest of your life. I would think that the February party would come as scheduled every year, I would think that I would appear at the same place every year, I would think that I could always see the big stage on the east side of the street, and I would think that those beautiful song and dance troupe girls with heavy makeup would always appear at the festival every year. The sun was shining brightly, but this was just my opinion. Since then, I have never seen the February temple fair again.
When I was approaching the door of my house, I suddenly remembered a friend I hadn’t seen for a long time and thought I should give him this gift. People's thoughts when they were young are so strange. It's hard for you to understand the vast, romantic, sad and lovely primitive emotions you had at that time. But I can always think of it one day countless years later, leaving a small touch to myself and feeling that I have done something beautiful.
I knew the village where my friend lived, so I rode for a long time to the village and inquired about his home. At that time, we didn't know how to communicate properly. When we met, although I simply said: "Chunhui, I'm here to play with you," we knew that the joy we felt when we met each other was beyond words. So the two of us ran around in the fields for a long time, talking to each other about all the interesting things we had heard during the days we had not seen each other. Look at the various plants that are about to grow in the fields, and the green wheat fields that will never be forgotten.
I gave him the gift before leaving, and he happily accepted the small gift. We smiled and waved to each other. In fact, this was farewell!
From 1999 until I left in 2004, and during the five years I lived in Shangcai, I never went to the February temple fair again. Although I can't figure out the reason myself, I think this must be another regrettable thing.
At this time of year, the February temple fair in my hometown is in full swing.
I wonder if the delicious stir-fried jelly is still there, if the artists who can make candies are still here, and if the smiles on the faces of the children running around in the street holding candied haws are bright? If there is such a day, I will definitely go back and sit under the stage, just watch the show quietly, eat my favorite snacks, and experience the stories that may be familiar to the folks coming and going around me! Prose on February 2, Part 7
It’s February 2 again, and it’s February 2 in my birth year. In my memory, February 2 in my childhood was such an interesting and happy day!
The day before, my sister took me to the sand ditch in Nanhu, more than two miles away from home, and brought back half a basket of fine sand. My sister said this was reserved for roasting flower seeds tomorrow. Hanako is popcorn. I have eaten it. It is made from corn kernels fried in a hot pan. It is yellow-orange and fragrant, much like the blooming flowers of my old apricot tree. Lying in bed at night, my mind is still thinking about the crackling and tempting scented flowers tomorrow. As soon as it dawned in the morning, I was awakened by the sound of a dustpan. I knew it was my sister who was winnowing corn and preparing fried flower seeds.
My mother was already rustling hay in the pot house, and the cooking pot was cleaned. After she heated the pot, she poured the fine sand that my sister and I brought into the pot. After the fine sand was fried, my sister poured the cleaned corn into the pot, took the vegetable shovel from my mother's hand, mixed the fine sand and corn, and stirred it vigorously. I squatted beside the pot and stared. I looked into the pot with big eyes, and soon a kernel of corn exploded. I shouted: It's exploded! Exploded! My sister picked up the flower seed with the tip of the shovel, put it in front of her mouth and blew on it, asking me to open my mouth. Then she threw the flower seed into my mouth, and then giggled: Does it smell good? I nodded while chewing. Then the full pot began to make a crackling sound, and the corn in the pot exploded like firecrackers one after another into a pot full of apricot blossoms. My sister speeded up the stir-fry and sang a sweet nursery rhyme along with the rhythm: On February 2nd, stir-fry flowers, and every family picks up little girls. On February 2nd, fried soybeans, everyone couldn't eat enough pancakes... The firewood made my mother's face blush, and the heat in the pot also made my sister's face blush, just like the peach blossoms in my vegetable garden.
Before Hanako had finished eating, the friends in the village gathered at the door of my house and called me: Iron Dan! Come out and throw mud eggs! I quickly got under the bed to find my clay eggs. Speaking of which, this clay egg is not an ordinary clay egg. It is round and about the size of an egg. There is a thin hemp rope behind it. A foot long red cloth strip is tied behind the hemp rope. Nestle the red cloth strip in the palm of your hand and hold the hemp rope with force. Rotate, and then throw it into the sky. The mud egg makes a whooshing sound like an arrow leaving the string, and it drills into the sky with all its strength. The red cloth strip follows behind and draws a beautiful arc like lightning. It is really beautiful! Although they are called clay eggs, they are very complicated to make. First, you need to pick enough locust beans from the locust trees, then put them on the grinding plate and smash them with sand. Then you need to find a very sticky yellow from the ditch cliff. To make mud, mix the smashed locust beans and yellow mud together, put it on the grinding plate and smash it repeatedly until it becomes a smooth and shiny mud cake, then close the mud cake and smash it until it is smashed to your liking. After being put into a round ball, it is left for more than 20 days and slowly dries in the shade into an iron-like clay egg. On February 2nd, the children took out their favorite objects and competed to see whose clay egg was round, whose clay egg was harder, whose clay egg could be thrown higher, whose clay egg could be thrown farther...
The dinner is very sumptuous, second only to New Year’s Eve. Some families pick up their daughters after they go out, and they try their best to prepare eight dishes and eight bowls, and the whole family gathers together to celebrate this "dragon heads up" festival in a decent way. After dinner, the most exciting moment finally came. All the men in the village, both adults and children, came out. After the adults tied sorghum straws into a huge torch and lit it, two people were in front, each holding a main torch surrounding the village. As we walked forward on the road, the child brought a brush handle from home for washing pots, dipped it in kerosene, lit it on fire and followed behind. From a distance, it looked like a dancing fire dragon. The fire dragon walked around the village and then headed to the threshing floor. After arriving at the threshing floor, the adults placed the torches in the center of the field and started the carnival. The children threw the brush handles in their hands into the sky and shouted loudly and sang folk songs that they could not hear clearly: brush handle, slippery lantern, big hole in the old monk's hat; brush handle, slippery lantern, private school pigtails, big onion ...After the brush handle fell from the sky, adults and children all rushed to grab it. You threw me and I threw you, and they became a mess. It was not until the torch in the center of the field was completely extinguished that the adults found their children and walked back in twos and threes.
Looking up, the silent night sky is as blue as a pool of blue ink spilled on white paper. The stars in the sky are blinking like they are playing hide-and-seek with the children. The wind brings the warmth of the rising yang, bringing the fragrance of the wheat seedlings to the sky. The fragrance of the earth is sent to the heart and spleen, February 2, what a wonderful day to have you in the year!
It’s February 2 again, and it’s February 2 of the year of my birth year. The night in the city is less star-studded, and it lacks the depth and loftiness in my memory. The wind brings in the city flavor through the window. It made me feel like I was missing something, and I glanced out the window, fixed on the distant night sky, my beloved hometown! Is your brush handle still flying tonight?