Remembrance into

Student is nostalgia for the people.

I remember that time fell in love with language lessons. Language teacher is a hole in their prime Xing Nvzai twenties, tall and lean, gentle personality, vision clarity and slightly melancholy.

She love to wear a beige suit, Sanzhao a slightly curled UFA, intellectual and elegant. The only shortcoming is the hole half the teachers face is black, does not seems to acquired wounds, I heard a birthmark, that hint of melancholy that comes from this it should look. Otherwise, she used to be a beautiful woman. I naturally would not speak out of turn to ask, but that kind of hole that teachers were more unique and mysterious.


Love poems began a lazy afternoon in the dream of a lack order, fresh and unique, this is not immersed in Qingzhao decorative carving of natural taste and mood. Kong teachers have an appreciation of Song, I have borrowed to after-school reading, encountered numerous vague idea what they loved the place to find free time to ask the teacher hole. Probably are attracted to the graceful micro hidden text, we sometimes actually a normal life, to commune has been a long time good friend, as I asked her answer linger. Perhaps the text is no respecter of age and divide it.

Poetry readings and hymns and others are more experienced quite an enjoyable one and talk to people who own it He Qinan. As Boya poem: broken and Qin Pteris cold, son of whom are not on the bomb? Beaming all friends, Yumi confidant Nanshang Nan. I do not know why the hole with my teachers talk with many, in fact, I have 15-year-old age, although the conversations often were immature, but overwhelming in today's era of network traffic, as long as there is resonance between the two-year-old and six-year-old what communication is difficult.

In my old state of mind, this friend and teacher's feelings, only made me feel deeply Fortunately, the. Teachers look at their own wise eyes, swirling, vivid, I both like they are respected. In my eyes she seemed optimistic about the firm, in poetry readings when there are numerous longing brow eyes dim looming.

That day, the teacher asked me to read the hole so many poems have a special memory. I mean quiet conscious Song Yong, both graceful it uninhibited. The memorable is a song for Li Qingping Le: every year the snow, often drunken plum, plum and Norway do no good, which won a clothing Qinglei. Worry is the kind of beauty is still lonely and Hidden Bitterness is unable to stop.

This does not, and joy for Love, perhaps slightly morbid state of mind and my childhood, repressed personality. Kong teachers listened, eyes passing hint of Xianglianxiangxi the look, fleeting. She said: Qingzhao words are full of late night Piaoling sad state of the environment and the tragic death seen their homes destroyed. The early works reflected mostly innocent and pure emotion but stubborn young woman. You just Ka Wah, this sad but it is difficult to deep feelings are appropriate, after the deposit should be more pleasant state of mind we go light. Her words made me sensitive heart is fear is gratitude.

Today, I have been a teacher at that time with the value of hole. Had been out of the only promise and naive, but every word and action in the outpouring of sorrow has become more restrained and natural. Over the years it is difficult to get rid of the final disposition of this innate.

Remembrance into, but was already casting haze of confusion.

Whenever the wind was blowing, I will remember the lonely valley of orchids like exudes fragrant hole teacher. Past has become an empty, memory drift in the wind, those who remain live in the shadow faintly in the distant horizon. Stared trance when you can faintly see the sky the shadow of Communication Department in the two chatted lonely .......