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Rainy night reverie

Monday on August 17th, 2020Other

At the moment I lay in bed at home, the window is on the ground eaves of the sound of raindrops, soporific.

This reminds me of high school had never been seen late at night nest in bed playing mobile phone to write the log scene. After reminds me of a childhood summer, under a night of heavy rain, I nest in bed, deplored the sofa during the day to be thrown away, afraid of a rainy night, the sofa can no longer drenched scene. And now, the last of these scenarios there is only my memory, but tonight suddenly think of again.

Think of it, how long did not let go of the kite? Child followed the grandfather learned to make simple kite, and childhood friend of the shuttle chase in the fields, kite-flying season, should be in canola did not grow so high that time, or in the flowers fade fruiting period of time, I long remember.

The reason why the thought of flying, because on the way home when the afternoon saw someone flying a kite. Every kite-flying season, the river will have a variety of styles and patterns of trafficking kite business, plastic and cloth are now rarely seen, I do not know traders gradually disappear or become less of my attention.

Night with my parents watched Indian film "Slumdog Millionaire", the film should be when I was in college English teacher recommended, I can not remember specifically who a. But "Pianist" the recommender I remember.

Childhood memories of far-reaching impact on a person's growth, it can be said, childhood experiences, who have already decided on a growth trajectory. If forget the past, and how the heart is placed, childhood never returned, but there are so many happy childhood moments, when it seems every day the sun, chasing ran between a prodigiously, have to play to the dark come home for dinner. Dark, at most, watch TV on the bed, the next day is a scurrying through, how carefree childhood ah.

Rain outside the window has been getting smaller, hoping to get up tomorrow morning will be able to stop the rain, although rain is as precious as oil, after all, I still like Sunny.

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