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Konu Konu: Is it the fragrance Yanıt YazYeni Konu Gönder
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Kayıt Tarihi: 14-Haziran-2018
Gönderilenler: 82
Gönderen: 16-Mayıs-2020 Saat 11:30 | Kayıtlı IP Alıntı ylq123

Is it the fragrance of the remaining tea in the cup, or a
kind of negative happiness, an inexplicable affection
lingers in my heart, because of perseverance, I realize the
love and sadness of hindsight. ����Inscription Jin Qiu's
slow wind blew through the window, and an inexplicable
feeling filled the air, swirling, flowing, and exuding a
slight fragrance, but after all, like a cloud of smoke,
only a thin, cold wind struck and woke up My dream sounded.
There was a step deeper in the depths of the dream, a touch
of longing, a touch of sadness, and a quiet moment of
beauty. Opening a window of memory, I was sitting in the
car to admire the scenery along the way. My mother was
bringing good tea with me to the hometown full of grandma's
songs. Grandma loves to drink tea, but can't afford to buy
expensive tea. Every time I go home, I can smell the faint
scent of tea before entering the house
. She always takes me and my mother to
taste tea in the yard. She always pours tea bowl by bowl
into her mouth until The jar is in my heart. At that time,
I was so passionate about carbonated drinks, how could I
taste it, looking at the pot full of tea dirt
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I could not help but dump the tea in that pot, but I never
thought about my grandma ��s distressed expression at
that time Cigarettes
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, I ����I do n��t think that the gray
sky seemed to be suppressed by the world. I was sitting in
the classroom, but I did n��t listen to it. Somehow,
there was an inexplicable pain in my heart, and there was
tears in my eyes. The sky outside the window was getting
darker. Suddenly, the rain was pouring down from the sky,
the heavy rain was pouring, the branches outside the window
were shaken by the rain, and the flowers in the corners no
longer poured fragrance. After returning home, my mother
was lying on the sofa. In the sadness, the sorrow in the
air became stronger, and the news of my grandmother's death
landed on my head like a thunderbolt on a sunny day. I went
back to the yard where my grandmother lived. In the past,
she always likes to hold the "ci", lying on a chair, next
to a pot of tea and tea cups, the thick water mist above
the tea cups watch the clouds and the clouds dance empty,
rendering a unique afternoon. Now the yard is only cold and
lonely, and the grandmother's tea tasting is still vague
and clear in my mind. The word "fine product" haunts my
heart, and I seem to understand the meaning of the word
here. Grandma nurtured her mother and nurtured me. She put
all of her life on us. This may be the stick of traditional
Chinese women. The mist on the tea cup is always there by
the interpreter. Yu Xiang

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