Four kinds of eyes

It's late at night, and I'm reading the newspaper-I always wait until late at night to read the newspaper. Gradually, I feel that I'm not reading the news, but reading history.

According to the Associated Press, a 23-year-old TV cameraman named Berger, who belongs to WTOC, Georgia, USA, is carrying sophisticated equipment to grab a piece of news, and the news content is "Police rescue drowning woman". If you shoot well-whether the result of saving people is success or failure-it is exciting enough.

At three o'clock in the morning, he stood on the shore of Shafan. In late September, it was already very cold. His camera was aimed at the river, at the woman and at the lifebuoy dropped by the police. All the tense scenes are carried out in sensitive and highly sensitive films. As for the young reporter, he himself is safe and sound.

However, suddenly, things changed.

Berger found that the woman in the camera couldn't catch the lifebuoy at all-not a drowning person would be rescued by the lifebuoy naturally. Berger threw away his camera, jumped into the river, swam 40 meters and rescued the struggling woman. As soon as I found out that they couldn't save her, I jumped into the river without thinking. There she is. She is in critical condition. It's natural for me to save her. "He said.

That morning, he returned to the TV station empty-handed. He didn't get the news, but he became the news himself.

I put down the newspaper and looked out of the window at the night, lost in thought. The reporters in the first half of the story are very much like me and my familiar friends! With the qualification of a professional, he is responsible for describing the world with precise and accurate equipment in his hand, being objective and calm, delivering documents on time, and his work efficiency is amazing and impeccable.

Today's Berger is another old knowledge. What kind of old knowledge? This is an example of ancient people drowning in thread-bound books! The training of the college is nothing more than induction, deduction, analysis and comparison, but the reporter on the Savannah River jumped up and snatched back an almost frozen life in the cold wave in the morning-I felt warm and safe all night, as if it was me who was saved, my heart that was vulnerable in nature. Although the whole story happened on a river I didn't know, and although one person I didn't know saved another person I didn't know, it was me who captured the warm and beautiful eyes! 2. the secret of dryness

In the crisp autumn season, I made up my mind to rediscover the exquisiteness of my home. After a long summer, the leaves are old and green, which makes people doubt that living is a huge, difficult and unhappy obligation. The only way to deal with it now is to pull it out and replant it. It turns out that there are also species of fire phoenix in plants, and it takes a uprooting process to regenerate flowing jade feathers. I moved a low stool to sit on the front porch, and my hands were covered with mud, as if this were the case. Autumn sowing gives people the joy of "second-stage transplanting" Can you earn an extra season of green for no reason? Am I still a farmer at heart? Although all my poor rural areas are in that small pot.

Pulling out all the stems and vines, tamping the native land, and then picking off the tender buds and replanting them one by one, is a great spirit of reorganizing the mountains and rivers, but my hand slowed down and I felt a little surprised. ...

The background of the story is like this. I choose this exquisite plant because it is the most humble, energetic and suitable for myself who is busy and eager for green. Come to think of it, just water it, forget it. It is said that this plant has an English name "Wandering Jew". As long as you give him a breath of air and a pinch of dry soil, he will persist in living. As for more water and less backlight, he doesn't refute it at all, and it seems that he has made a book with his master, so he must show you the green color!

At this moment, because it was cleaned, I was surprised to find the bitter history of this family. It turns out that all green tasks are second generation. As for the roots under those buds, they have withered long ago.

The withered stem is half a foot short, but more than a foot long. Yellow and thin, it's really "so weak". The blame lies in this ugly withered stem, from which some new buds have grown.

I stayed for a long time and intuitively judged that these roots were dead. They watered the next generation of buds in a way that replaced rigidity-in retrospect, this was wrong. If it dies, its water absorption function will be lost, and it will be impossible to preserve the bud. Since it can still supply water, it can be seen that it is not dead, but isn't it dead if it is done like this? I thought about it, but I couldn't figure it out. I finally confirmed that it was about death, but I forgot that I died because of my heart, and I kept delivering water. Just like the warrior on the battlefield in the story, he was cut off halfway and killed all the way without knowing it. ...

The sky is blue, the clouds are light and slightly cold. I didn't say anything, nor did Cui Linglong. I sat there, touching a secret document like the wind, feeling a history of Cui Linglong's family's existence spread out in front of me.

That morning, I picked the green shoots from the dead branches of the martyrs and replanted them one by one, as if to reunite a sequel to history.

"goodbye! I know, "I bid farewell to the dead branches for the green shoots", and I know what you paid me. That was the food before I was hungry, and that was a drop of water before I died of thirst. In the future, I will be kind to our new shoots. \"

"go! Let's go This is the day we are waiting for! " I quickly turned to speak for the withered again. "Living is very important. All good things have to be alive to wait, right? Look, what soft new soil! Go, go, don't be sad. That's what happened. It's nothing. We can close our eyes ... "

In the subtropical zone, autumn is actually just a rather melancholy but pretentious spring. Ten days later, all the inserted exquisite plants have grown up seriously, and the house has a new layer of green. In contrast, the former green seems to be just a vague concept, and now green is the living flesh and blood. I don't know when winter will come, but I can share a warm secret with a pot of exquisite flowers, so that I can flourish in the cold season. 3. Giant rope with black hair

After visiting the hall, we went around to the back porch.

In Nara, Kyoto, visiting ancient temples can almost become an all-out career. In the morning, at noon, at dusk and at night, I look through the information and have a good sleep so that I can watch it the next day ... I am a little afraid that I am spoiled by classical beauty. I'm afraid I'm used to looking at heavy columns and solemn cornices, and finally I don't move at all.

That day, the place we went to was called Dong Hong 'anji.

Some people are praying in the hall, while others are preaching. Pigeons walk slowly in the yard and drink a mouthful of water from time to time in the lotus-like reservoir. Liang asked the swallow to fly, and the wind rang over the eaves. I thought of the prosperous Tang Dynasty. ...

Maybe it's the design of the building itself. I don't know why I was taken to this back porch. There is almost no landscape here. I stopped in front of a big cabinet, which was boring and old-fashioned. Except for the tripod, it is about one person tall, square and heavy. There is a dirty and old thing in the cupboard. When I looked carefully, it turned out to be a bundle of thick rope, as thick as an arm, wrapped in a circle of graphics, with a diameter of about one meter. This kind of scene should appear on the dock where ocean-going ships enter and leave. How did it come to the temple?

I didn't know what this rope was called until I read the instructions. I tried to read the explanation, and it turned out that this rope had a great origin: it was all women's hair in Meiji period. At that time, the temple needed wood, and the wood had to be pulled with giant ropes, but the giant ropes were not necessarily tough. So the women in the village cut their hair, rubbed hundreds of feet of rope, and dragged the extremely heavy wood to the construction site one by one with a big pry.

What is beauty? Are they all sad wishes that have been adhered to through the ages? Is it an awe-inspiring smile when a woman loses her hair? Is it a willing donation to abandon the dust and mud of the Black Silk Youth Committee? Is it the pleasure of future generations standing in front of the cabinet?