People's Education Edition primary school Chinese original: Stealing notes and turning the corner, I saw the signboard of the restaurant, smelled the smell of cooking, and heard the knocking of the spoon, so I slowed down. I hurried here from school after school. The destination is not a hotel, but a bookstore next to it.
I walked and thought:? Where did you study yesterday? Where is that book? Third row on the left, not bad? When I walked to the door, I saw that the bookstore was still crowded with customers as before. I can feel at ease. But I'm worried about whether that book will be sold out, because I've been reading it for several days and it seems that there are only one or two books left yesterday.
I stepped into the store door, exulting that no one was paying attention. I stood on tiptoe and got under the adult's armpit. Yo, I messed up my short hair. It doesn't matter. I was finally admitted. In the rows of colorful books, my eyes looked eagerly for it, but I couldn't find it. Look again from the beginning. Ah! It's here. It is not where it was yesterday.
Open the book quickly, one page, two pages, and I read it greedily like a hungry wolf. I am very happy and afraid of the smell of stealing!
I'm afraid of being discovered by the bookstore owner. Whenever I feel that the environment at that time is no longer suitable for reading, I will put down my books and go out and walk into another shop. Sometimes, a book needs several bookstores to finish.
I like to go to bookstores with many customers, because that won't be noticed. Although many people come in to read books, I'm afraid there are no people who patronize me and never buy them. So I have to hide myself. Sometimes I cling to an adult as if I were his little sister or daughter.
The happiest thing is that it rains, and the more it rains, the happier it gets, because then I have every reason to stay in the bookstore. It's like hiding under the eaves from the rain. You're always embarrassed to kick me out, aren't you? I sometimes pretend to frown and look at the street from time to time, as if to say: it's raining, I can't go back. ? In fact, I cried with joy in my heart: Bigger! Bigger! ?
When delicious food suddenly appeared in the restaurant, I was so hungry that I had to daydream: if only I had money in my pocket! I went to eat a bowl of hot noodle soup. When I got back here, someone had put a sofa on it and sat comfortably and continued watching. My legs are sore, so I have to support them with one leg alternately, and sometimes I have to rest on the bookcase for a while.
Every time the fluorescent lamp in the bookstore suddenly turns on, I realize that I have been standing here reading for more than two hours. I closed the book and swallowed, as if I had swallowed all my wisdom, and then reluctantly put the book back on the shelf.
I walked out of the bookstore with my head down, my feet numb, but relaxed. At this time, I always think of what the Chinese teacher encouraged us: remember, you grew up eating books! ?
People's education edition primary school Chinese text original: mine? Longevity fruit? Books, people call it human civilization? Longevity fruit? . This metaphor, I feel particularly cordial.
Just like a bee and butterfly flying among flowers, just like a spring flowing in a valley, I can't help feeling happy every time I recall my childhood. In the memory, the reading life of youth is like a colorful picture scroll, and it is also like a cheerful movement.
The first thing I read was "Children are called? Cigarette man? A small picture of. It is a kind of cardboard slightly larger than a matchbox, with pictures printed on the front and words printed on the back. It is a gift in each box of cigarettes. When adults let their children buy cigarettes, this wonderful job will often be taken away by boys, and we girls will only fall into envy. When you collect more, you start the game. Scrape with your palm? Cigarette man? Look who blows far. At this time, I cheered so hard that I could finally enjoy the big pile of pictures in the hands of the winners. Are these printed? Water Margin Three Kingdoms? The sketch of the story is the first cartoon I have seen.
I read it with relish at first, but I felt dissatisfied after a long time.
Later, I saw some real comic books. A primary school teacher who loves art, he has several sets of comic books, and I am fascinated: "Seven Colors Flowers" aroused my imagination, and "Revenge of Blood and Tears" made me cry like beads. Later, my brother's friend gave me some short books: Biography of Liu Hulan, The Story of Zoya and Schula, The Road to Gu Liya. As long as I have a book in my hand, I forget all about eating and sleeping.
Gradually, I couldn't satisfy comic books, so I found another one? Oasis? There are hundreds of books in the cultural station in the town! I run there as soon as I put down my schoolbag every day. In a few months, I have borrowed almost all the literary books in this small library. I read quickly, gulped down dates and learned a lot? Don't seek a solution? Taste. What attracted me first was the story, not the fate of all kinds of characters. Their joys and sorrows often worry me.
Shakespeare said: Books are the nourishment of the whole world. ? As a teenager who is as hungry for reading as I am, its role is self-evident. Enthusiastic reading rewarded me. Since the third grade of primary school, my composition has always been the first in my class. Reading also greatly expanded my imagination. At home, facing a stone wall with complex patterns, I will stay for half a day and conceive various myths and legends; When I meet a disabled person, I will feel dejected and weave his tragic life story.
I remember once, the title of my composition was "Autumn is Coming". After the teacher read a model essay, when did most students start to write like this? Autumn has come, and the leaves are yellow and floating to the ground one by one? At that time, an uneasy idea suddenly flashed through my mind: how boring it is for everyone to write like this! I want to see autumn with my own eyes and write autumn with my own feelings.
I compare autumn to a fairy in a golden dress. Her light sleeves brushed away the heat of the sun and sprinkled light and freshness on the earth. She blocked the cold with wide clothes, but lifted heavy fruits and gave them to the world. You all love autumn. Her sky is crisp, her clouds are bright and sunny, and her fragrance is everywhere. Autumn makes farmers smile brilliantly.
So, I got an A in my composition? Jiayou? The teacher circled the text and read it in class as a model essay.
This little glory made me realize a little truth: first of all, the composition should be clever, and the writing should be a little different? Umami? It's good. These insights are naturally the gift of extracurricular reading materials.
Later, I was not satisfied with just reading ordinary story books. The rich books in the school library attract me like magnets. Those novels, ancient and modern, Chinese and foreign, fascinated me. I spend all my spare time borrowing books. At this time, I formed the habit of taking notes: remember the beautiful words in the book and the wonderful paragraphs described. Taking notes has exercised my memory and enhanced my understanding.
Once, I was so excited about the thesis "An Unhappy Past" that I felt that I had a good opportunity to show my talents: when I was a child, I was wronged, and the words I usually accumulated to describe my distressed mood played a role like yeast. I started writing on a cold evening, comparing the loneliness and loneliness of a wronged little girl with the beauty of the moon and the laughter of people around me. I can't help crying when it's finished. This composition, full of true feelings, was well received, copied into big characters and posted on the wall of the classroom. However, I saw the teacher circle the moon I wrote with a red pen? Like a jade plate embedded in the blue sky? This passage, say this? Embedded? I blushed when these words were used vividly. I can't accept this praise with a clear conscience because of this description and this? Particularly vivid? what's up Embedded? Chinese characters are the words I can't forget after reading Mr. Ba Jin's Home.
Then, I realized a little truth: composition, to write true feelings; Writing practice can not be separated from reference and imitation at first, but what really touches people's hearts should be their own painstaking creation.