Image composition of memory

In our daily study, work and life, we always touch or use words. Writing can exercise our habit of being alone, calm our minds and think about our future direction. Do you know how to write a good composition? The following is the video composition in my memory, which I collected and sorted out, hoping to help everyone.

Memory image composition 1 One day, when I was walking down the street, a string of melodies sounded in my ear, so familiar and so strange, I frowned and my memory image was reflected in front of me.

I don't remember when. About four years ago, in a small mountain village, I heard an old artist playing this song with Ma Touqin. At that time, I first heard this song. After all, I was young and ignorant, and I was somewhat curious about the piano. I wanted to take a closer look, but my father pulled me. Father was about to say something when the old artist turned his head as if he had eyes on his back and looked at his father kindly: "Let him have a look." With permission, I ran over with joy and looked at the piano carefully. When I saw the piano head, I accidentally looked up and found that the old artist had lost his mind. His nonexistent eyes seem to be looking at me, too. He paused, looked strange, and shook his head hard, as if to get rid of something. After shaking, the melody began again. As if he understood something, he nodded and sat back beside his father.

Later, something happened downstairs, and my father took me home in a hurry, either because of special feelings or by accident. When I got home, I picked up my guitar and rushed to my tutor, who happily took me to get started. I was playing a few songs I had learned. When I proposed to learn that song, the teacher's stalwart figure seemed to shrink a little, and his straight waist was bent a little. His face showed almost the same expression as that of the old artist, and he sighed and said, "Well, I'll teach you." At that time, I was ecstatic and didn't notice the strange brilliance in the teacher's eyes.

I learned the tune and went home happily. On the way, I met several tents, and there was a big disc with a big word "sacrifice" written on it. I took a closer look and saw an old man holding a long tube, which seemed to be called suona. Occasionally, he took off his suona and blew it, which was harsh and melodious, accompanied by a soft voice mixed with several cries. Suddenly I lost my mind, like a walking corpse. Walking, I overheard someone say, "Li Haiyang is really stubborn. He wants to do what he can't do, but he saved himself ..." After hearing this, I seemed to understand, and I was inspired to wait for a while when I got home. This doesn't seem to be a good song. Looking at the old artists, teachers and Li Haiyang, it seems that this song has made some taboos. Bad luck.

After the video of memory is broadcast, when I wake up, I will carry my guitar and continue walking.

The image of memory 2 is composed of ever-changing memories. Is there anyone who can make you fantasize again? -inscription

"Hualin thanked Chunhong and hurried away." The sun shines, cherries turn red, bananas turn green, your black hair is bleached, leaving only a little China hair. ...

You have no outstanding appearance, no outstanding life experience and no wealth, but you work hard and are my half mother. Now, looking at your faltering back, blending with your newly arrived figure, causing ripples and evoking that most precious memory!

Smiling expression

When I was a child, my parents often went on business trips, leaving you with meticulous care. Changing diapers, feeding, washing, even when you do housework, wet urine has penetrated into your camel's body. Just as Sally taught Helen, you also have a unique smile. I am led by you step by step, without exception, for fear of negligence. Your smile brings us closer together.

Duanshe

I am used to calling the kindergarten teacher "Auntie". One day when I make a mistake again, I hope there will be a smiling girl in a certain crowd. Although I wanted to find a crack, I still couldn't find any news, so I burst into tears. You came running at full speed, carrying your back and saying comforting "pleasantries" But I don't know: a cold is your tears; Sobbing is your crying; A phone call:

"Hey, Mom! What's wrong? "

"Come back, your father is ill."

"I know, but ..."

Oh, no, I feel it. When I was a child, I didn't understand the love and hate in the adult world, but it's important to know that you made a choice. As everyone knows, this is a break between love and tolerance and a farewell without hesitation!

Someone's back

But as time goes by, things have changed. The begonia flowers outside the window have withered, so it's time for you to go. Reluctance, sadness and hatred flow in my heart, but I remember: you come gently, make a scene, and finally you have to leave quietly.

Suddenly, looking at your floating back, I suddenly felt relieved: it seems that in the early spring of next year, the flowers of Begonia bloom and the powder of trees saves many people's worries; That figure is also a broad and long-term reunion!

After the video of memory was played, I went to the window-begonia flowers were dazzling in the sunset.

Look! The spring tide is dark, the spring water is full, and the spring breeze is ten miles, but it is not as good as you.

The beauty and preciousness of youth lies in its innocence and perfection, in its irretrievability, and in its gone forever. -inscription

At the end of that summer, the trees along the two roads were already flourishing. With the noisy cicada singing, I walked on that road.

"Which high school do you want to go to in the future?" Faced with such a problem, I stopped and stood still. "No.1 Middle School." But I know in my heart that at my present level, I can't reach my goal at all. "But I don't think I can do it." I gave a wry smile. "For three years, don't give it a try, how do you know you can't? I believe you! Then it's a deal, I'll wait for you! " She looked at me, and the broken light swaying under her eyes left an indelible mark on my memory.

Yes, this is our agreement.

I have known her for ten years, and we have gradually become dependent on each other. She is excellent, ranking among the best in a year, and I always want to make myself better and be a friend who can really compete with her.

I'm on this road again. This time, I'm alone. Eyes are stung by the sun, but crazy branches can't stop the fierce sun. In a trance, the image of that memory reappeared in front of my eyes: two girls with tall ponytails and backpacks, as always, were on the road, full of youthful smiles, talking about their yearning for the future. "I'm waiting for you." I am like a bird. When the black cloth covering my life was uncovered to reveal dazzling sunlight, I seemed to be awakened by that deep answer-I want to know how to fight for the future.

Yes, in the best years, why not give it a try? The picture in that memory keeps playing in my mind. It seems that with goals and expectations, life will become colorful. I think I will look the best in my youth. I have been longing for the day when our agreement can be realized. One day, we can walk down that road again in the uniform of the same school and continue to talk about the fascinating future.

The player of youth has no pause button, but the image of that memory is fixed in eternity. Our agreement has always inspired me and I will continue to pursue our common goal. I always believe: full of expectations will be invincible.

If you try your best, only your back will be left to the world. -inscription

The moonlight is like frost, unpretentious. It passed through the attic of flowers and reflected on the earth. Next to it, Haitang is in bloom. A breeze blew, and your fragrance filled the air. Then he climbed into the attic with a glass of wine in his hand. You meditate endlessly and sometimes scream at the sky. You don't know how to write your life. This is my first impression of you.

Raise your brush and think, how did you do it, and write down your worries in words? Every time I hold up your copybook, it is a little respect. Your carelessness is regarded as a masterpiece of the world by future generations. Is this innate divine power? How much effort does it take? I don't know. But his bold and delicate handwriting is deeply engraved in my heart.

An unintentional trip in my childhood brought me into contact with a brush. Imagine how interesting it would be when I wrote my brush perfectly. The deep memory makes the seeds I planted in my mind take root and sprout!

"Why can't even write the most basic strokes well? I'd better talk about writing a good brush. I think it's better to give up early. " Memories, sometimes cruel, that midsummer night, the laughter in my ears has been haunting me. Until now, I seem to have returned to yesterday. Tilted room, rolling in the depths.

A sleepless night.

I'm at a loss. Why can he write such exquisite words? Is this a gift? I think we should give up before it's too late.

The books on the bookcase are uneven, and one stands out. I went up and turned over a few pages, and suddenly thought of this sentence-the word poverty and backwardness. Yes, in those days, he was not repeatedly demoted and repeatedly subjected to Wutai poetry cases. Isn't this the basis of his high status now? As the saying goes, heroes come from suffering. How can you be a hero if you want to give up when you encounter such setbacks?

Make up your mind to be a better person.

Every day, I touch the first ray of sunshine in the calligraphy room; In the evening, I saw the last sunset again.

Time is fixed, this long journey is not over, but if you don't work hard, how do you know how much strength you have?

Re-supporting the pen, inking, and the brush was freely danced by me. In an instant, a mass of black bloomed, and I took it through his dream. Sweat is secreted from the back of my hand and condensed into a dream road.

Looking back suddenly, I just tried my best!

My memory is frozen, in my first impression of you.

Memory video composition 5 "Go home and return to the original beauty." -inscription

There are many old video tapes in the video hall of memory. Going to the deepest place with the darkest light, I searched hard until I found the old image that has been lingering in my heart. I brushed away the dust of the years and gently projected it.

That memory came to me like a torrent:

"Beep-",it's already evening. I leaned against the window and looked at the traffic in the street. There were many pedestrians on the path. The noise of the car gets on my nerves. I looked at the pedestrian's tired face, but walked firmly. Both the car and the man are heading in the same direction-home. They all have the most ordinary but persistent idea at the moment: go home.

My real home is not here. I study in a big city with my parents. Now I'm a little tired of the noise and hate the splendor. The bright and colorful night lights make me uncomfortable. At the moment, I have a rebellious idea-I want to escape and go home.

I confessed this bold idea to my parents, who were surprised at first, but finally agreed.

Sitting on the high-speed train on the way home, the scenery outside the window flashed by, but it made me feel sad.

I came home and looked at the familiar bluestone steps, as if I had gone back to the past. My hometown, although there is no modern technology and food, has clear water and blue sky, and a small world that belongs to me.

In the morning, I got out of bed affectionately. After breakfast, I went for a walk by the pond. When I was a child, I always liked to put my feet in the stream, which brought me a little coolness on a hot day. At this time, if there is any unlucky "poor guy" around me, I will not hesitate to sprinkle water on him. After lunch, sit in the warm afternoon sunshine. Cicada singing, echoing in the ear, refreshing and interesting. In the evening, after tasting some grandmother's special dishes, I will sit in the backyard again, clear and cold, shining like many colors on the ground. Who can say that this is not "the most delicious taste in the world is Qing Huan"?

The image came to an abrupt end. I put it back and turned away.

If memory is a drop of water, the water becomes more, and naturally it becomes the sea. If memory is a grain of sand, the sand becomes more, and naturally it becomes a desert. I am the owner of the desert, looking for those memory images like scrolls in the desert.

This is an encounter with her. I reluctantly left the library by bike. On the way, I remembered that "real justice lies in the underworld" in Lu Xun's Flowers in the Morning, and I was immediately filled with indignation. "Adults always have reason to say that I am wrong." Thinking of this, I rode faster and faster, and naturally I became more and more angry.

Warm wind brushed my cheek, colorful flowers danced along the way, as if to amuse me, and trees fluttered, but he was sad and disappointed. This is an image in my memory. Accidents always happen in a flash. I ran into another girl on a bike.

The breath in my heart vanished in an instant. I struggled to get up from the ground. At this time, my brain was blank, and an idea suddenly came to my mind: get on my bike and run away. But looking at her as old as me, I have some feelings. I stood there like a fool and didn't know what to do. She suddenly looked up at me and whispered, "Can you help me up?" I got up my courage and went over to help her up.

She whispered to me again, "Thank you." I looked at her in surprise: "Don't you blame me?" She gave me another look: "Why should I blame you?" At this time, I found that her eyes were big and bright, just like her heart, full of beauty and kindness. This is a beautiful image in my memory.

We all went home when the sun went down.

If my memory is a sea, she is a unique dolphin. If my memory is a desert, then she is an oasis that illuminates the desert. She is the fragrance of the desert and a unique image. I thank her for letting me feel the tolerance and kindness from strangers.

The evening breeze is blowing on my cheek. Memories don't go with the wind.

Image composition in memory 7 Autumn wind blows gently, and leaves are fluttering. In the depths of my memory, there are always some fragmentary images that are scattered by the autumn wind and overflow into the water. ...

I hope I can take every step of my life well, so that every step can be firmly stepped on the ground and leave a distinct mark. Even if youth is short, you should keep some spirit. I still remember when I was young, I lost in the ancient poetry contest and walked home alone. Recalling the past experience of "stumbling" and "hitting a nail", I was surrounded by layers of dark clouds, and it seemed that many bad moods were coming at me. It's like carrying a high mountain on my back, which makes me depressed and difficult to breathe. The crimson "0" with a large score is like an invisible big hand, gripping my throat tightly. When I got home, I only saw the book lying on my desk. Elegant posture and simple appearance gradually calmed my heart.

In my memory, there is nothing I miss except books. The fragmented images only remind me of the book. "There is no limit to learning the sea, and there is no limit to learning the sea." I am friends with books. It is books that fill my brain lacking in knowledge and make me realize the truth of life. Book, I think you taught me what life is.

Following the images in my memory, from then on, I knew how to strengthen the achievements of ancient poetry. I read and buy books about ancient poems every day. When I am impatient, I will think of what you said, "I was born useful, spinning a thousand pieces of silver, come back all!" "Every time I see 300 Tang Poems, that moment is like a dead branch; Like melting glaciers; Like a new swallow returning to its nest, like a happy flower quietly opening. I don't understand what you mean. You told me that the difficulties I am facing now are a stepping stone to my future success.

Spring leaves the summer solstice, and autumn comes to winter. In the deep memory of the image, the book, you are still the most complete, but also the most easily pieced together in the fragmentary image.

You have enriched my life with you, and made my life with your partner more wonderful. Book, you let me practice ancient poems with you again and again in my memory, and you share them with me.

You are the brightest image in my memory, and you are my eternal sunshine, illuminating my way forward.

Memorize video composition 8 Pick up the worn-out video tape and put it into the player. With a bang, the screen began to blink, but it was calm again. Whether memory is like this image, who can say clearly? "Ding Dong Ding Dong", grandma's tape recorder sang her favorite opera again. I frowned wearily and turned upstairs. That melody is my least favorite. Listening to it several times a day will make your ears cocoon.

As I grew older, my grandmother and I drifted away, and my grandmother left my life bit by bit. After hours, the relationship between mother and grandmother was not very good, and the number of times I came back to see my grandmother was very small. In this way, grandma disappeared in my life.

The dusty, old and remembered images reappeared in front of my eyes. I remember lying on my grandmother's lap when I was a child, listening to a string of melodies on the radio and humming along. I smiled, and so did grandma. A string of flowing gold seeped in through the window, and the sun was just right.

Looking downstairs quietly, the melody on the radio is getting more and more rampant. Grandma lay in a rocking chair and closed her eyes quietly. The wild flowers outside the window fell asleep comfortably in the sun, and they were really a sleepy naughty boy at noon.

Unconsciously, I closed my eyes and suddenly fell into the image of memory. If you are trapped in a swamp, your eyes are already in a green vegetable garden. The breeze is blowing gently, and the flowers are swaying gently. Grandma and I are walking in the vegetable garden. At that time, when I was young, I stood beside her and stood all the way to her waist. In this way, it took a long time to walk through a small vegetable garden with small hands holding big hands.

I squatted beside my grandmother and watched the ants come in and out of the soil. Reach out and move, then spread out in groups of three and five, as busy as headless flies. I giggled and really fulfilled the sentence "Ant on hot bricks".

However, my grandmother and I can't be as close as before. Only the warmth in the memory image connects me with grandma. It seems that there are several lines connecting us, such as disconnection. Grandma and I have never broken up. In fact, I also want to be closer to my grandmother, but I can't find the opportunity, so I have to watch her walk away slowly.

The image of memory quietly ended. Grandma is asleep, but the opera is still singing. I walked over, gently closed the opera and gently called "grandma". Cicada is singing outside the window, and grandma's face is smiling.

Memory image composition 9 is flat and full of echoes, and each stroke is intentional. Gently open the image in my memory, the day I learned calligraphy is embedded in my mind, so beautiful, so beautiful, this journey is engraved on the monument of my life.

Dusk. Anxiety; worry

The biting night breeze blows the trembling brush in my hand, and black ink runs rampant on the white paper. "The structure is not well written and the strokes are poor." The teacher's comments shattered my fragile self-confidence like a hammer. The afterglow spilled into the calligraphy class, making the strokes so dazzling. The breeze blew away the dust on the copybook and gently wiped the wolf's hair on the nib. When can I walk away like Yan Zhenqing, showing a mellow atmosphere? I closed the door and said goodbye to the calligraphy teacher. Tears swirled in my eyes, and the gray afterglow sprinkled on my body. It's like a sad oil painting, but it's also the beginning of my brush journey.

Quiet night. think

Moonlight gradually climbed to the zenith, like a newly soaked ice wheel and a jade plate. I sat quietly in my chair, thinking about the strokes on the copybook. Why can't I write well? Milky moonlight broke into the study and sprinkled on my back. I quickly picked up my pen, and the ink blossomed on my paper, and the nib took me forward like a beautiful dance. At this time, my palms are all sweaty, and I finally understand that no matter what I do, I should not be impetuous and try my best to finish it. Gradually, I found that I could write fluently. I walked on the road of writing brush. I gathered a smile, rare, but not enough. I picked up another piece of paper and continued to write. A pen, a piece of paper, wrapped in the sweat and persistence of a teenager.

Early morning. realize

The last night was like an unpolished pebble, which was thrown into the sky. I look forward to giving my work to the calligraphy teacher. He smiled and said, "Yes, your boy understood so quickly." I'm embarrassed, too Suddenly the teacher took out a ticket from his bag and asked me to take part in the calligraphy competition. I took it to say goodbye to the teacher, the breeze was slight, my eyes were full of tears, and my heart had blossomed.

A brush is like a trip. I have been studying on this road, and all the images in my memory have been shown by me. I will continue to write my life with a pen.

Image composition in memory 10 A person's life is like a movie. The photographer carves a boat and seeks a sword in time, recording every bit of our life; There are scenes that make us excited and happy, and there are scenes that make us cry. It records our laughter, crying and fighting, which is the image of memory.

The most unforgettable memory for me is the painting competition. Hundreds of millions of years ago, my mother wanted me to have a skill. So he signed me up for a painting training institution. I also have an unusual love for painting. Every time I go to the studio, I can't help but pick up my brush strokes and think of the animals and beautiful scenery I saw today. At the same time, the teacher also taught me painting skills carefully. Year after year, day after day, my skills have been improving day by day. Teacher, don't let me take part in the painting competition. So I made up my mind to win the laurel, but empty talk without hard work is like daydreaming, and hard work is the bridge between dreams and reality. Without delay, I quickly picked up my brush and attacked the white paper over and over again.

But it's not that easy to win the crown. When I handed my painting to the teacher with confidence, the teacher said, "If you want to win the laurel, you still can't. You need to practice several times. We will select the best paintings to participate in the competition, and the probability of winning the championship will be great. " The teacher's words were like a bolt from the blue, so I had to pick up the brush again and again and take the trouble to redraw one picture after another. Finally, I couldn't bear it anymore and decided to give up. But the teacher always encouraged me, "You can do it. Believe in yourself and practice a few times more. Don't just give up. Do you want all your efforts to be like drawing water with a sieve? Come on, victory is ahead! " I listened to the teacher's encouragement, got up the fighting spirit, gritted my teeth and endured the "torture" in the last few days.

Finally, it was worth it, and I got the first place in the exam.

The deep memory of these scenes, like movies, is deeply engraved in my mind, so clear that I can't forget it. ......