There are many old cans in the shabby wooden house

2020年4月15日   |   by 科姆龙

The wooden bed was covered with coarse cloth straw mat, and the clock with jet lag stopped at a certain moment and refused to leave any more. Several scattered books lay lifeless on the simple bookshelf, sending out a rotten smell against the wind.
Outside the eaves, there was a path full of Moss. The traces of the old Buffalo slipping were clear and dazzling. The tender grass inserted in the bamboo tube withered into a handful of hay, with a wisp of flame, which seemed to be able to disappear all.
The waste scattered on the pig Gallery was drizzling in the rain. Several plants of tender green grass leaned out of their heads and quietly visited the scenery outside.
Grandpa’s plough and several air-dried cowhide were hung on the bamboo chips full of straw. The bell with sound quality was taken off and rippled into the last note at night in the wind, the tone of the bamboo forest outside the village eulogizes the vicissitudes of the world.
In the open space not far away from the house, several children frolicked and passed by, holding a kite made of bamboo chips in their hands. The kite flew not far but not high.
At night, she squatted behind the shepherd boy and walked into the village without any prediction. The smoke of the kitchen was scattered all over the field. The fragrance of the cooked rice floated along the gap at the door to the top of the tree, causing crowds of unknown birds, it gives out hoarse tunes like singing.
The faint light, which had stolen the block from the board, shone on a narrow space on the path. The old woman who was going to sleep closed the door, and everything was immersed in the dark night.
A Kitten hid in a corner, waiting for the mouse’s signal and disappeared with a few sighs. Through the glass window, the Moonlight lingered lazily on the randomly placed books. In a flash, it hurried away again.
Window, small window of wooden house, closed strictly. The road, the path in front of the door, is really quiet.
On a sleeping night, the baby cried gently, and the tune of a young woman singing slowly reminded of it, and it stopped in an instant.
The world fell asleep. On the bed inside the window, a child was sleeping soundly, pouting his mouth and dreaming that Duke Zhou had gone.

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