An essay on Huaiyuan

Homesickness for Huaiyuan

The afternoon sun kisses the concrete pavement with abandon, and warmly raises its feelings in the space. I was sickly walking between the passions, wanting the sunshine to make me recover. I was drowsy, mesmerized, as if I were in a different world, or as if I had just woken up and come into this world. My thoughts began to sink into the wheat fields of my hometown, into the old deep courtyard.　　In this afternoon sunlight wantonly pouring between the hometown of Fu River sparkling. In the twilight of the cattle drive small child, gently raised the whip in the hand, raised the vicissitudes of the world, fell a few generations of the Xin Yuan. The rice paddies in the ears of wheat year after year, point falling, will be handed over to the sickle of life and death between the wave of the hand. The green mountains and mist, around and around, around and into the deep courtyard, when you can round out a "sea of change"!