Excellent composition in senior high school: dreaming back to "ancient village"

"It's raining in Lan Yu, but I'm waiting for you, the smoke from the kitchen is curling up, and it's thousands of miles across the river ..." Every time I hear this song with a strong ancient style, a picture of an ancient village surrounded by smoke from the kitchen will come to my mind, and I will think of that special free trip: I met a village that once looked like a paradise, but was on the verge of disappearing.

When I stood not far from the ancient village with dawn on my back, my shoes were covered with dew and grass clippings. I stood there with an expectant heart, gently closing my eyes, opening my arms, feeling the touch of the breeze, and forcibly opening my nose to take a deep breath. What I breathe into my lungs is cool, moist and a little cold, but it only calms my anxious heart down gradually.

At this moment, I just want to open all my pores and let myself better integrate into the wind and air and into this idyllic ancient village.

The houses here are all built with traditional blue bricks. After a shower, new moss grew on the dry moss left on the wall, and some bricks cracked slightly. I can't help but reach out and touch, and my fingertips have a rough feeling. This is a mottled trace of history. When I put my ear gently on the wall, the whole world seems to be still, and maybe time is still. I can only hear the heartbeat, one, one ... but I can tell whether this is my own or an ancient village. However, listening to this clear heartbeat, I feel inexplicably happy, because of the long-term vitality of the ancient village and because I can hear this voice.

Every brick and tile here, every soil and stone, every flower and grass, every insect and every bird are filled with a quiet and distant atmosphere. Without the hustle and bustle of the city and the impetuous flow of people, it is really worthy of the sentence "Flying kites against the sky, looking at the peak and concentrating; People who manage the world look at the valley and forget the rebellion. "These are the wealth given by time and the treasures left by history.

I approached a small yard. The door of the yard is open and there is a wooden fence. An old woman is sitting on a wooden stool and choosing vegetables. It is quiet and beautiful. After I called "Grandma", the old man warmly welcomed me into the small hall. A tile on the roof was broken, and the sun poured down from the cracks, warm but not dazzling. The decoration in the house is old and simple, but simple and beautiful. She took out a snack and smiled and said to me, "Try the rice cake here. I made it myself, but I can't buy it in the city. Nowadays, young people are too troublesome to make rice cakes, and they don't want to learn how to make them ... This tradition can't be broken ... "Grandma smiled shyly after she finished. The traces carved on her face by the years make her face unable to hide her face, but unable to stop being grateful and proud.

After eating the rice cake, I said goodbye to my grandmother, and I set off again ... Although I really want to stay here until the end of time, I come from another "civilization".

When I walked to the entrance of the village with the sunset on my back again, I looked at the ancient village shrouded in smoke. I seriously recalled everything I saw today, especially grandma's complicated smile at last. I know grandma is also worried that modernization will crush their village passed down from generation to generation. And I, a modern "Wu Lingren" who strayed into the Peach Blossom Garden, may break this tranquility.

Let this ancient village continue to bear the passing and birth of generations as time goes by, let the villagers live a simple and happy life quietly in the village, and let the traditional culture of this ancient village be passed down from generation to generation ... and I, a modern urbanite, will always keep this beautiful dream-"This village is not enough for outsiders to live in."