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Fishing revelation


Persevering composition - the enlightenment of fishing

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I am a child who loves to fish. As soon as I had no homework for the holidays, I took a small bucket and went to the nearby river to fish in a bag.



It was Saturday morning and the air was very fresh. My father and I came to the clear river to fish with a comfortable mood. We quickly put on the bait and throw the hook to the far side of the river, and sit on the ground, waiting for the fish to hook.



After waiting for nearly thirty minutes, the shadow of the fish still did not surface, I was a little impatient, but I could see my father, still moving, and I was all staring at the water. "Damn fish," I whispered. I changed a few places in a row, the fish were not hooked, I was angry and fell to the ground, "no play," I said with a lost face. I looked up into the distance and sighed. At this moment, Dad’s big squid was hooked up. With the bang, I finally woke up and realized my problem. So, I picked up the keg again, returned to the river, threw the fishing rod into the water, and waited patiently.



In a twinkling of an eye, twenty minutes passed, but for me, it seems to have passed half a winter. The fish is still not hooked. At this time, the strong sunshine was burning me, the sweat was squatting down, my hands and feet began to numb, but I still bite my teeth, no movement.



The work pays off, and with my tenacity and tenacity, the fish seems to be shocked by my spirit and hooked softly. "Haha, or I have stamina than you," cried my happy applause.



This trivial little thing made me deeply understand a sentence: persevering composition - the revelation of fishing

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I am a child who loves to fish. As soon as I had no homework for the holidays, I took a small bucket and went to the nearby river to fish in a bag.



It was Saturday morning and the air was very fresh. My father and I came to the clear river to fish with a comfortable mood. We quickly put on the bait and throw the hook to the far side of the river, and sit on the ground, waiting for the fish to hook.



After waiting for nearly thirty minutes, the shadow of the fish still did not surface, I was a little impatient, but I could see my father, still moving, and I was all staring at the water. "Damn fish," I whispered. I changed a few places in a row, the fish were not hooked, I was angry and fell to the ground, "no play," I said with a lost face. I looked up into the distance and sighed. At this moment, Dad’s big squid was hooked up. With the bang, I finally woke up and realized my problem. So, I picked up the keg again, returned to the river, threw the fishing rod into the water, and waited patiently.



In a twinkling of an eye, twenty minutes passed, but for me, it seems to have passed half a winter. The fish is still not hooked. At this time, the strong sunshine was burning me, the sweat was squatting down, my hands and feet began to numb, but I still bite my teeth, no movement.



The work pays off, and with my tenacity and tenacity, the fish seems to be shocked by my spirit and hooked softly. "Haha, or I have stamina than you," cried my happy applause.



This trivial little thing made me deeply understand a sentence: Heng Zecheng, Jing Shisheng

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