a life in the country

Life is a piece of paper, life is a brush, it draws a stroke in life, or lightly, or rewritten, or colorful, or dark, but that is our life. Middle school is a drawing paper, I am the pen, I will add a multicolored pencil to it.

A line of lines, it is red, it is happy. I entered middle school and became a middle school student. I experienced a lot of things on this beautiful campus. For example, on a Friday day, the ringing tone suddenly sounded, and the students flocked out of the classroom, completely ignoring the downpour. I walked quietly, watching the rain falling on the ground, slap on the water, watching the students around me support each other and open the umbrella, I am like a helpless little tree. No one waters and fertilizes, and does not grow into a big tree.

I took a step in the rain, but there was no rain on my head. I was amazed, but I saw my classmates. We only quarreled yesterday, thinking that the heart is warm, like a small tree seeing a beam of light on a cloudy day, I It is pleasant, moving, and happy. I don't know how to express my feelings, just silently say "thank you."

The joy of red, the bitterness of black, is so dazzling. In the middle school period, I hope that my parents will look at themselves. They only find their parents in the parents who come and go. It is a warm picture and disappointment. I want to say: Mom and Dad, where are you, can you come and see me? Even a short one minute! Responding to me is still the cry of the voice in my heart, I still see the parents who are filled with smiles, but that is not my parents.

Black is bitter, red is happy, how dazzling two colors.

Life is the ocean, frustration is a wave of times, and life is a boat, rushing to success in the ocean against setbacks

First day: Butterfly flying