"The Memory of Youth Has Become Today's Nostalgia" article. Huang Xin Heyang Ancient Town, a well-known Ming Dynasty prosperity and civilization so far in the traditional Chinese village collection, after a hundred years of baptism, she has deep roots and thrived. Heyang Ancient Town stands on the top of the mountain in Luoyuan Bay, a poetic basin, the peak faces the sea, embraces the lake and holds the water, the green shade is swaying, and the birds are flying. The fragrance of green camellia flowers permeates all corners, so generations of Heyang people embrace in the embrace of ecological heyang with great expectation; Year after year, we say goodbye and reunite on happy and peaceful days. This is the beautiful home of Heyang people, "ecological Heyang" has become the youth memory of the villagers for their hometown, and "ecological village" has become the common living space of Heyang people. The knot of spring dreams, when I am dying, I will be a fool of time. "Nostalgia" revisits the old land, we talk to our ancestors at night, roaming in the vast night; Anything is possible, accompany you to the end of time. In the footprints of the alley corners, I met the ugliness and sadness of human beings; The summer nights of the fireflies left their joyful figures, each carrying the burden of the family, caring for the elderly parents and a warm home. The road of the world, his own figure, the encounter and self-perfection, there is a bright future in the struggle, and he is always the way to a better direction. The struggle to climb to the top of the mountain itself is enough to flesh out a human heart. Writers and prophets should be imagined. What is left, what is left behind, is not only faith, but a soul that constantly seeks and thinks, the voice of literature, seeking not something of universal significance, but the crystallization of footprints and sweat. Meet "Nostalgia" for an artist's portrait, the year his mother left, he began to imagine what would happen if his mother was gone. What would it look like in a world without warmth, comfort and love? The direction of time, the pampered mind, determined to work hard to overcome its own weakness, but at that time, we must look at the pair of snubbed eyes. The young man completely wrote out my feelings, and the unique thing is that he not only presents the mentality of adolescence, but also meticulous and confident, and "nostalgia" records the journey of a young man growing up. Memories, memories, "nostalgia" too late to say love; Art, burning youth of young people; Art, the Hunger Games, On the Road, Dreams Sweet. When my heart is deeply hidden, the long night of art is long and the road is long. Youth literature, see you late, three lives have a smile to meet you. Starry sea, a sword frost cold, embarked on a thrilling suspense road, through the moonlight realm, cold fog and flowing fire, the sound of the years weaved the poet's sideburns, and the stones over the sand. The dream of "nostalgia" words remains unchanged, never leaving you, and paying tribute to the ancestors, you, me, him, her, the old places where we once lived together, the years we have walked together. Chinese New Year's Eve that year, the sound of firecrackers exploded in the night sky, the red lanterns hanging high in the hall shone brightly, and the ancient town was bustling. Then continue to walk deeper into time, the people in the mountains left a green empty city, old old houses, old country sounds, old shadows, silent old village entrances, silent watch, and then all in the past season, the corners of the walls are hung with moss, like the old man hanging on his heart. Childhood memories, the days of catching fallen leaves, have become today's "nostalgia". The moment the leaves swirled and fell, they were gently caught, but so far they accidentally caught what was left behind was the Internet buzzword "nostalgia". "Nostalgia" for the foreigner is the wandering stars, intertwined flames. Silent falling leaves, happy shadow dance, slow homecoming, falling leaves and "nostalgia" desireless lamentations, if tomorrow comes, "nostalgia" is the orphan of the fog in the depths of the mountains.
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