There is such a place (original)

Falling water, paying for it. Turned around, once and for all, staying in the heart.

--Inscription

Years are embarrassing, time flies, the good times of the country for three years are like a weaving shuttle. In a blink of an eye, it’s been three years, and it’s time for us to graduate.

It seems to have returned to the autumn of the chrysanthemum, and returned to the beginning of memory. Faces, smiles, and at this time, if they are yesterday, they still remember. The summer is hot, the phoenix tree downstairs is rustling in the sand, and the green leaves cover the sunlight, let us have a place to enjoy the cool. During the class, sitting on the stone bench under the tree, we laughed and cheered, surrounded by a happy atmosphere.

I still remember the 100-meter race in the physical education class, flying and dunking. This scene is like a movie in my mind. Cheers, cheers, this time is particularly cordial.

I still remember the Lang Lang book in the morning reading, which is still vivid. Neatly reading and memorizing the text, now I remember how happy I am.

I still remember the active class, the fierce debates, the enthusiastic rush, and the hot group discussion, which is so nostalgic.

Yesterday, we were still a child-friendly freshman, but today we have to face the senior high school entrance examination and face parting. For three years, the white shackles have been reluctant, and I can't bear the place that once brought me good memories.

I will never forget the teacher’s teaching and patient counseling to me; I will never forget the deep help and deep concern of my classmates. I can't forget the song that I didn't know how many times I sang. I can't forget the test paper that I have left with a red pen imprint. I can't forget the homework full of writing. I can't forget it.

On the playground, the phoenix tree is still so green, the basket is still so worn, the runway is still so clear; in the classroom, the blackboard is still the blackboard, the desk is still the desk, and the window is still three years away. Even if everything changes, there are traces of ours on campus.

In the years of the past, the good memories of the past have been left in my mind and put into the heart. Three years will be closed, the senior high school entrance exam is approaching, and a drop of ink dripping on the rice paper will be scattered.

I missed the phoenix tree, the basket, and the desk. The most reluctant thing is the campus that left us with a little footprint.

2012. 4.20 in Xi'an

- Wen / Jiudu Remnant

Third day: red umbrella rouge