Adhere to the composition of old artists and traditional crafts.

No matter in study, work or life, everyone has dealt with composition. According to the different writing time limit, composition can be divided into limited composition and unlimited composition. I have edited the model essay of the old artist. Let's have a look!

Adhere to the traditional craft composition in the long river of history, some crafts and cultures are moving silently, and the name "craftsman" is getting farther and farther away from us.

Once I asked my sister if she knew how to make popcorn, but she actually told me that it was fried with beans, which really made me laugh and cry. When I was a child, I tried to show her how to make popcorn, but she didn't understand.

It may be late autumn or winter. I am doing my homework on the balcony. It was already late at night, and when I heard a bang, I looked up and bowed my head, only to see that the sunset had set and the sunset glow was red. There is an old man popping popcorn by a deciduous tree downstairs. Now think about it, what kind of artistic conception it is! I put down my pen and rushed to find my mother. My mother found a bag and put some rice on it. I don't think it is enough. People crowded around the old man's stall in small groups. After every noise, there are all kinds of sounds under the fairly quiet tree: children's laughter, the sound of plastic bags, and the sound of women bargaining. After a while, I calmed down again. I was so happy, so happy.

It's my turn. I'll watch carefully. In my opinion, it is really a miracle to turn hard rice into crispy popcorn! The old man poured rice into the stove and pulled out a spoonful of sugar from the black box next to him. I hope he can put more, so he shakes the handle again and again. The coal under the stove burned red. I like to stand closer, so the old people will talk to me, and if there is, we will talk. After a while, he will shout, "It's going to explode-"and I will cover my ears and run to my mother. "Bang-"is like a muffled thunder. In my opinion, it is even more wonderful than fireworks.

The combination of rice and sugar has become the taste of my childhood, and the air has become so sweet. I like to dig out popcorn by hand and put in two bags, which is as interesting as a pile of sand. After paying the money, my mother carried a bag in one hand and the mouth of the bag was steaming. I always reach for one. First, I ate it bite by bite, and finally I stuffed a whole mouth, full of satisfaction and joy. If you change to something rare, such as chocolate, only a small piece at a time can bring such satisfaction.

After returning home, I untied the bag, simply buried my whole face in popcorn, chewed a few mouthfuls, and it was still warm, with a strong aroma between my nose. My mother saw it and yelled, "What are you doing!" As long as I look up and there is a little snow on my mouth, nose tip and eyelashes, my mother will laugh.

Looking back on these childhood happiness now, I still have a pen in my hand, and the scenery downstairs is more different. How can it not make people sad?

On Sunday, I was walking in Huishan ancient town and was attracted by an obscure stall on the corner. It's a vendor selling sugar machines. When he approached the booth, he found himself busy. He took out a small piece of syrup, dipped his index finger in a small amount of starch and pressed it into a deep pit, tightened the outer mouth and pulled it out quickly. When it reached a certain fineness, he suddenly broke the candy bar. At this time, the candy bar is like a thin tube. The whole scene was like running water, which attracted many people to watch and began to scramble to buy. I looked at the team and immediately gave up the idea of buying. I wanted to buy it in another house, but suddenly I found out that he was the only craftsman in this big street. I was lost in thought. In the long river of history, some handicraft rain cultures are walking silently, and the name "craftsman" is getting farther and farther away from us. .......

I remember the question my mother asked me when I was a child: "Do you know how popcorn is made?" When I was a child, I naively replied that it was fried with beans. So there was a nostalgic expression on her face, trying to describe how she saw popcorn, but I never understood it. Until later, I saw the rough coal stove and crude starter, and the thunderous explosion, which made me remember it vividly.

It was night and I was doing my homework on the balcony when I heard a bang. I quickly looked up and looked at the voice. Next to a deciduous tree downstairs, there is an old man popping popcorn. As soon as I saw it, I quickly put down my pen and went to find my mother. Mom found a bag, put some rice in it, and let me pop popcorn. This loud noise is like a flare in the lonely night sky. Many people came to the surrounding communities. Looking at the long queue, I can only stand in the cold wind and wait. Finally, it was my turn. I stood by and watched carefully. The old man poured rice into the stove and dug out a spoonful of sugar from a nearby cassette. I always wanted to put more, so he started to shake the handle and chat with us. People gathered in small groups. The old man shouted, "It's going to explode." I stared at the stove and watched the miracle happen. There is a depressing sound. The stove shook twice like an alchemist who imprisoned the Great Sage, followed by a fragrant smell.

The combination of rice grains and sugar makes me very happy, and the air becomes so sweet. I just don't know when the old man who pops popcorn will come next time. Can you still come?