Li Xianze chilly words threw him: "take off over there?! Damn, hurry up!" 

Girl trying to suppress don't cry, put clothes on the ground, under the three under two and then jumped into the hot spring pools. 

Li Xianze hear sound, immediately shouted at me: "the dead rabbit! Take off that thing funny as hell, who then put the clothes to wear." 

"But... I, I don't want to forget it..." 

My words haven't say that finish, Li Xianze "sinister" replied: "ok, but I can be interpreted as: you don't wear is to want to do my girlfriend!" 

"No... not..." Well, with this kind of unreasonable people cannot communicate! I bit her lower lip ashore on, take off, wait for dry body of water is in a hurry to put on clothes one by one. 

Looked at in the hot spring pools to only reveal a head girl, deeply sorry from my heart out. I low head, special sincerely bow to apologize: "sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry..." 

Eyelid girl down, and meowed to cry, don't reply. 

"The who, have you taking your cell phone!" Li Xianze stepping a withering haitang petals, walking slowly. 

"Well!" The girl in red face, nodded, "in clothes pocket." 

Li Xianze from me coat pocket found some miscellaneous things, resting on the ground: "his phone." Say that finish, he pulled my hand away. 

Girl anxious to yell: "my name is Chen litchi, xian ze elder brother!" 

Suddenly Li Xianze paused, corners of the mouth up a pale smile: "I will remember you." 

"Thank... thank you..." Dizzy, I really admire the girl named Chen litchi, actually in is Li Xianze whole into such a situation, still can shed tears while smiling happily. 〒 del 〒 

Li Xianze dragging me quickly out of the Chinese flowering crabapple Lin, this just let go my hand: "art, 14 class a year." 

"Huh?" 

"Their home, remember to find me in the class in the afternoon." Says the Li Xianze as she from her pocket a bubble gum, peel off the wrapper threw it into the mouth. 

"Uh..." 

Haven't wait me from something Li Xianze slow lead strength, he was blowing bubbles turned to leave, leave me a cool shadow. 

Day, what is? ! Why do I always meet some weird guy temper! 

Vol. 3 I was deprived of N a right 

When I was conscious when to get out of bed is more than a week after. 

By freezing at noon that day, I can drive home alone, and appetite is big nurse cook delicious lunch to finish eating. But after I went to take a nap in the bed, fully awake me again is today. 

I just wake up, the nurse has been nagging at the foot of the bed on, fortunately, I didn't said in a stupor, halfway or... SOB, thanks to god and god's asylum. 

Family doctors to walk for a while, say again in a couple of days I fever can all gone, nurse cheerfully immediately after listening to the soup to me. Sick this time, I vaguely remember dad home to see me once, but I was in a daze, have failed to have a good talk with him! Oooo............ 

I struggled to sit up from the bed, took the shelf at the edge of the bed, laptop computers, boot - 

I have the habit of keeping a diary in the Blog every day oh, actually, most of them are opportunity to vent)! Because I'm a bit cowardly character, "William castles" before college is always to be bullied by others. Especially those girls that I put the princess outfit too, everywhere with me. -_ - # 

Alas, in fact I just don't know how to get along with people... 

I quickly typed, this period of time series of dissatisfaction and a series of unlucky events are pouring out of the whole. And cold bad ZuoGe, almost devotes whole pages is accused to speak ill of him. 

I was knock knock words wrong, a custom in the QQ head shaking up - 

╃ - sichuan ぃ : small LuLu also recently, okay? Call you to listen to aunt said you ill oh, evil pursuit to plan very well? 

Eh? Turned out to be I from junior middle school to high school with 4 years friendship for a long time good friend qin sunseeker. Send me (that is, the wing wizard doll, indirect harm so I end up miserable toxic friends!) 

I hasten to keep just in the Blog to write diary, started to chat on QQ. 

Powder zeta doll: how do you know ah, sunseeker accidentally good poor oh... (one is trembling cry onion head) 

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╃ - sichuan ぃ : my dear, you really poor enough. Your heroism "William castles" we all told the person is to know! Already heard that "three flashy metropolis" ZuoGe, ruthless ROM railing of the city's notoriously! Didn't expect really cold at this point... 

3 yorum Devamini oku

"I know." I said to learn to cooperate with his way of life, understand his actions, no matter how bitter all don't give up him, don't give up our feelings. But now I'm doing? I picked up a row of the table B52, even drink two cups. Going to put himself drunk, and then the past looking for him. 

"Sister ah, that is money, you when I answered the whitewater? Have you the so drink?... as for? I with my girlfriend for three years, as you so, I have two bottles of XO in!" See I'm going to take the third cup, ShangQi crazy, actually he is afraid of me to drink more. This wine is very fierce B52, alcohol is the man for a few cup it is end of the table down. Catch up with me this man no self-control, a bad mood must drink many, a drink many will temper temper, no one will. And chun make the most fierce once, maple son, ShangQi they are in, everyone said to us of conciliation, mediation out to eat meal, nature is maple son to reciprocate. Results chun said 1 was not especially battle righteousness of words, I picked up the table fork and then throw the past! If it weren't for my drink many, see no goal, the child even if I pass the. At that time ShangQi said that the one, give me down the steps, he said to the chun said, "you see you also, blah what? You see YiFei love you more, so angry, also won't really firm you. Look, the fork from you still half meters far away, vertical free-fall... more for all one's pains?" 

Love the battlefield (14) 

"You this man certainly think doesn't matter, by you has no heart cheat girl's feelings, and still feel alone special skill unique sense of accomplishment.?" 

". I don't follow this find scold, you didn't see how the little girl lined up waiting for me to cheat! Say that finish ShangQi went down the stairs. I saw the young girl and the man shaking body, with HIP - HOP music, is like a house without thought of the body, suddenly feel there is no I impression so cute. 

Maybe drink too quickly, I ran to the toilet vomit up. Fill up the I wiped my mouth out of the bathroom door, I sit to Rio extension place, want to look past and greet him, but he suddenly looked up, originally get up the courage in his eyes that moment, run to be done at no time, directly back to his seat. I don't know if I drink many, why I in his eyes see the infinite tenderness. 

Didn't think he had to come from my very near very near. I can smell the fragrance of him, unique flavor. 

"YiFei, how are you?" 

"You look at me now?" 

"I'm sorry." 

"What I'm sorry." 

"There are things I never mentioned to you, that is afraid of you want to. But now lets you misunderstood." 

"Misunderstanding? That women are looking for home to still say misunderstanding?" 

"She... is rolled." Rio a dull extension is said to come out. 

"She is rolled?" Rio is rolled extension former girlfriend. Although do not know why they will break up, but heard that they communication, she has been foreign pretended to be single, often and company male colleagues in the outside all night drink... When the extension extension is simple, she also very tolerant. 

"Then she come back to do?" Extension extension became a singer, want to eat grass back? 

"If I tell you, you have to promise me, later believe me, don't doubt me." 

"Well, you are quick to say!" 

"She said also like me. But, I tell her, I already have a girlfriend. She said she also not crave, as long as a month and she saw a face is good." 

"What do you mean? She want to be your valentine?" 

"No, she said just want to look at me, don't ask me what to do with her." 

"No!!!!!!" I want to don't want to interrupt him. The world is to have this kind of woman, her boyfriend when a dog called to also go, don't know to cherish. And he became a man of others, especially once developed, she will cry day to shout back, in fact also says SOB is not necessarily true repentance, but want to stir the everyone's quiet day. 

"Of course I didn't promise. I like is you, so don't accept her." 

"Really?" 

"I can tell you, don't you believe me?" 

"You put samsung that style of the new MP3 bought for me, and I see in the MP3's face on believe you." 

"So simple?" 

"Yeah, I this person? In fact, you know, it's not money, right? Not a vain woman." 

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"As long as you can believe me, what do you want me to give you." 

"Disgusting!" I intentionally turn aside, don't let him see I can't help but slightly raise your mouth. 

1 yorum Devamini oku

"Hello! Classmate, you also is new?" I'm sad, a vice fell hard on my thin shoulders, "which of your class? How to look thin little, this is not no development well?" 

Damn it! I a burst through the only big hate, turned to see the moment before the lip guy long what appearance. 

Qi mei red broken hair, with long on both sides of the temples. Although the hair cover, but I still through the hair ambiguously see him on the left ear light green diamond fine nail. As he spoke yes mild floating flashing coloured glaze jade-like stone green glittering and translucent light. Clean the skin without any defect, even the pore is careful to can be neglected. A pair of jiongjiongweishen eyes write full cynicism, even the shock eyelash seem goes without an idle. Outline the full lips outline perfect line, at the moment is to me a beautiful radian. 

Really didn't think, this guy was a standard "pretty boy"! 

But it is not praise him. I stared at it a not too serious face, a word to say: "I -- -- - women born!" 

"What?!" And I think it look the same, that boy chin suddenly fell to the ground, a long time did not close the mouth. 

In our time at tells the quietly passing. A few minutes later he got from "dead" state restore to come over. Rubbed his his SuiSuiDe loose hair, while great feeling: "hello! Now is how? This is not I go to the toilet by female Wolf peeping? What are you dressed in male dormitory? Don't... don't you have a drag bug?!" He is very exaggerated his finger in my made everywhere, finally obtained the conclusion of this very owe a flat. 

"You say... here is the male dormitory?!" I DengYuan a pair of eyes surprised to roar a way. 

"Of course! Otherwise why am I here? Do you think the female dormitory will be man's room? You girls will stand # #?" 

Is not! Look at the toilet strange facilities, I really want to jump down from the upstairs! That damn girl actually the male dormitory show me! No wonder she has been threw me supercilious look, also said that what "conversation", originally from the beginning she is in front of the idiot, took me for boys. Make what? ! This...... This is in the world the most don't funny joke! 

1 yorum Devamini oku

"Dear passengers, our plane will be after twenty minutes in walls overseas international airport landing, please send electronic products closed, fasten your seat belt, ready to fall." 

RuanSuXue slowly opened his eyes, from the engine room of the oval window looking out, the outside is the night. Look from the air, the city lights, draw the outline of winding JinLiang scenery. Ten several hours ago, she from Frankfurt boarding time is the night, the plane in the clouds shuttle, see the moon, make more long journey. With Germany seven hours of time, she is not trapped, just some ". 

"I have a drink of water?" 

Side man is her secretary xiao liu, this time with her to go to Germany has been on a business trip for a month. 

RuanSuXue shook his head with a smile, his eye patch on the side. 

"Thank you, I am not." 

"Oh, we finally is home! A month of travel plus more than ten hours of the plane, and it is the world's most suffering torture! I can't wait to go to eat the pig, barbecue, and field remember plain chicken..." 

Xiao liu is larger than RuanSuXue on one year old, but clearly some more lively. Get along with his private, RuanSuXue always with a smile is given priority to, do not get a word in. 

"Yuen young lady, you don't want to home?" Xiao liu to see the appearance of she had, I was a little surprised. 

RuanSuXue slightly to one leng, she really didn't want to home, in Germany a month day she didn't even give anyone a phone call. 

"Of course I want to." Her mind back, with a smile and a lie. 

"We are all in the guess!" Xiao liu without leave a person see the bottom go to, "nguyen miss home so rich, the husband is group President, how do you work out?" 

He glanced at RuanSuXue, see her gently frowned and hurriedly explained: "I'm not discrimination against women oh! In fact, you begin to enter a company, we have doubt your ability, but just two years you will have to do design director position, and let all people sit up and take notice! I have had you as my direction!" 

Xiao liu secured speech, expression granite let RuanSuXue can't help graceful and restrained a smile. RuanSuXue hand and gently press press temple on the plane, she did not sleep well, just barely BiBi eyes only. 

"I am not angry." Comfort her said, "the company said what?" 

Bottom: scratch xiao liu hair, sorry to the gossip in the company shake out: "that's colleagues chat casually! Miss ruan is not lack of money, why still need to do so hard work. And, you still are in the European market, a year half of the time in Europe, the President don't care?" 

Here, xiao liu to explore glance RuanSuXue, look carefully. 

This time RuanSuXue suddenly feel was embarrassed, because she doesn't know how to answer. 

In fact, JiangShen didn't care whether they are away from home for a long time. And she for his don't care, I don't mind. But in the eyes of a stranger, she and he admits that the wedding, is still the most glamorous to show the way. 

1 yorum Devamini oku

Appeared in the eel home the man called porch, eel first love. 

Eel is when the university art students, the school of the arts major, born a sensitive heart, to the color, as to emotion. 

In a national fashion design contest, she to the identity of the amateur players involved in the design and work. Red, orange, yellow phase collocation, a warm tonal, chilly in many gorgeous woman come to the fore, won the design and go table double awards. But the competition is the only judges, porch. 

Back then, porch is rise to fame of the costume designer, many a little famous models are able to put on his hand design clothes go table for the biggest dream. He is upright and will never be interests driven that kind of person. 

About him, also had an unusually legend experience. 

In a large award ceremony, activities of the biggest sponsors to his point and great dissatisfaction. The reason is that the sponsors near the obstinate female model named to wear his design clothes onstage work, the most important is that the dress just put on looking at is good, very fair lady, lady to conservative degree, can be in T stage go up the effect is not the same. Chest, hip with the rhythm of the march it rings one brilliant pink flowers, pieces of white tender skin petals from between his in front of everyone. The sponsors a glared at a face satisfiedly porch a nod praise: "o beauty, is really beautiful!" 

1 yorum Devamini oku

   For reasons unfathomable to the most experienced prophets in Maycomb County,autumn turned to winter that year. We had two weeks of the coldest weather since 1885,Atticus said. Mr. Avery said it was written on the Rosetta Stone that when childrendisobeyed their parents, smoked cigarettes and made war on each other, the seasonswould change: Jem and I were burdened with the guilt of contributing to the aberrationsof nature, thereby causing unhappiness to our neighbors and discomfort to ourselves.

　　Old Mrs. Radley died that winter, but her death caused hardly a ripple—theneighborhood seldom saw her, except when she watered her cannas. Jem and Idecided that Boo had got her at last, but when Atticus returned from the Radley househe said she died of natural causes, to our disappointment.

　　“Ask him,” Jem whispered.

　　“You ask him, you’re the oldest.”

　　“That’s why you oughta ask him.”

　　“Atticus,” I said, “did you see Mr. Arthur?”

　　Atticus looked sternly around his newspaper at me: “I did not.”

　　Jem restrained me from further questions. He said Atticus was still touchous about usand the Radleys and it wouldn’t do to push him any. Jem had a notion that Atticusthought our activities that night last summer were not solely confined to strip poker. Jemhad no firm basis for his ideas, he said it was merely a twitch.

　　Next morning I awoke, looked out the window and nearly died of fright. My screamsbrought Atticus from his bathroom half-shaven.

　　“The world’s endin‘, Atticus! Please do something—!” I dragged him to the window andpointed.

　　“No it’s not,” he said. “It’s snowing.”

　　Jem asked Atticus would it keep up. Jem had never seen snow either, but he knewwhat it was. Atticus said he didn’t know any more about snow than Jem did. “I think,though, if it’s watery like that, it’ll turn to rain.”

　　The telephone rang and Atticus left the breakfast table to answer it. “That was EulaMay,” he said when he returned. “I quote—‘As it has not snowed in Maycomb Countysince 1885, there will be no school today.’”

　　Eula May was Maycomb’s leading telephone operator. She was entrusted with issuingpublic announcements, wedding invitations, setting off the fire siren, and giving first-aidinstructions when Dr. Reynolds was away.

　　When Atticus finally called us to order and bade us look at our plates instead of outthe windows, Jem asked, “How do you make a snowman?”

　　“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Atticus. “I don’t want you all to be disappointed, but Idoubt if there’ll be enough snow for a snowball, even.”

　　Calpurnia came in and said she thought it was sticking. When we ran to the back yard,it was covered with a feeble layer of soggy snow.

　　“We shouldn’t walk about in it,” said Jem. “Look, every step you take’s wasting it.”

　　I looked back at my mushy footprints. Jem said if we waited until it snowed some morewe could scrape it all up for a snowman. I stuck out my tongue and caught a fat flake. Itburned.

　　“Jem, it’s hot!”

　　“No it ain’t, it’s so cold it burns. Now don’t eat it, Scout, you’re wasting it. Let it comedown.”

　　“But I want to walk in it.”

　　“I know what, we can go walk over at Miss Maudie’s.”

　　Jem hopped across the front yard. I followed in his tracks. When we were on thesidewalk in front of Miss Maudie’s, Mr. Avery accosted us. He had a pink face and a bigstomach below his belt.

　　“See what you’ve done?” he said. “Hasn’t snowed in Maycomb since Appomattox. It’sbad children like you makes the seasons change.”

　　I wondered if Mr. Avery knew how hopefully we had watched last summer for him torepeat his performance, and reflected that if this was our reward, there was somethingto say for sin. I did not wonder where Mr. Avery gathered his meteorological statistics:

　　they came straight from the Rosetta Stone.

　　“Jem Finch, you Jem Finch!”

　　“Miss Maudie’s callin‘ you, Jem.”

　　“You all stay in the middle of the yard. There’s some thrift buried under the snow nearthe porch. Don’t step on it!”

　　“Yessum!” called Jem. “It’s beautiful, ain’t it, Miss Maudie?”

　　“Beautiful my hind foot! If it freezes tonight it’ll carry off all my azaleas!”

　　Miss Maudie’s old sunhat glistened with snow crystals. She was bending over somesmall bushes, wrapping them in burlap bags. Jem asked her what she was doing thatfor.

　　“Keep ‘em warm,” she said.

　　“How can flowers keep warm? They don’t circulate.”

　　“I cannot answer that question, Jem Finch. All I know is if it freezes tonight theseplants’ll freeze, so you cover ‘em up. Is that clear?”

　　“Yessum. Miss Maudie?”

　　“What, sir?”

　　“Could Scout and me borrow some of your snow?”

　　“Heavens alive, take it all! There’s an old peach basket under the house, haul it off inthat.” Miss Maudie’s eyes narrowed. “Jem Finch, what are you going to do with mysnow?”

　　“You’ll see,” said Jem, and we transferred as much snow as we could from MissMaudie’s yard to ours, a slushy operation.

　　“What are we gonna do, Jem?” I asked.

　　“You’ll see,” he said. “Now get the basket and haul all the snow you can rake up fromthe back yard to the front. Walk back in your tracks, though,” he cautioned.

　　“Are we gonna have a snow baby, Jem?”

　　“No, a real snowman. Gotta work hard, now.”

　　Jem ran to the back yard, produced the garden hoe and began digging quickly behindthe woodpile, placing any worms he found to one side. He went in the house, returnedwith the laundry hamper, filled it with earth and carried it to the front yard.

　　When we had five baskets of earth and two baskets of snow, Jem said we were readyto begin.

　　“Don’t you think this is kind of a mess?” I asked.

　　“Looks messy now, but it won’t later,” he said.

　　Jem scooped up an armful of dirt, patted it into a mound on which he added anotherload, and another until he had constructed a torso.

　　“Jem, I ain’t ever heard of a nigger snowman,” I said.

　　“He won’t be black long,” he grunted.

　　Jem procured some peachtree switches from the back yard, plaited them, and bentthem into bones to be covered with dirt.

　　“He looks like Stephanie Crawford with her hands on her hips,” I said. “Fat in themiddle and little-bitty arms.”

　　“I’ll make ‘em bigger.” Jem sloshed water over the mud man and added more dirt. Helooked thoughtfully at it for a moment, then he molded a big stomach below the figure’swaistline. Jem glanced at me, his eyes twinkling: “Mr. Avery’s sort of shaped like asnowman, ain’t he?”

　　Jem scooped up some snow and began plastering it on. He permitted me to coveronly the back, saving the public parts for himself. Gradually Mr. Avery turned white.

　　Using bits of wood for eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons, Jem succeeded in making Mr.

　　Avery look cross. A stick of stovewood completed the picture. Jem stepped back andviewed his creation.

　　“It’s lovely, Jem,” I said. “Looks almost like he’d talk to you.”

　　“It is, ain’t it?” he said shyly.

　　We could not wait for Atticus to come home for dinner, but called and said we had abig surprise for him. He seemed surprised when he saw most of the back yard in thefront yard, but he said we had done a jim-dandy job. “I didn’t know how you were goingto do it,” he said to Jem, “but from now on I’ll never worry about what’ll become of you,son, you’ll always have an idea.”

　　Jem’s ears reddened from Atticus’s compliment, but he looked up sharply when hesaw Atticus stepping back. Atticus squinted at the snowman a while. He grinned, thenlaughed. “Son, I can’t tell what you’re going to be—an engineer, a lawyer, or a portraitpainter. You’ve perpetrated a near libel here in the front yard. We’ve got to disguise thisfellow.”

　　Atticus suggested that Jem hone down his creation’s front a little, swap a broom forthe stovewood, and put an apron on him.

　　Jem explained that if he did, the snowman would become muddy and cease to be asnowman.

　　“I don’t care what you do, so long as you do something,” said Atticus. “You can’t goaround making caricatures of the neighbors.”

　　“Ain’t a characterture,” said Jem. “It looks just like him.”

　　“Mr. Avery might not think so.”

　　“I know what!” said Jem. He raced across the street, disappeared into Miss Maudie’sback yard and returned triumphant. He stuck her sunhat on the snowman’s head andjammed her hedge-clippers into the crook of his arm. Atticus said that would be fine.

　　Miss Maudie opened her front door and came out on the porch. She looked across thestreet at us. Suddenly she grinned. “Jem Finch,” she called. “You devil, bring me backmy hat, sir!”

　　Jem looked up at Atticus, who shook his head. “She’s just fussing,” he said. “She’sreally impressed with your—accomplishments.”

　　Atticus strolled over to Miss Maudie’s sidewalk, where they engaged in an arm-wavingconversation, the only phrase of which I caught was “…erected an absolute morphoditein that yard! Atticus, you’ll never raise ‘em!”

　　The snow stopped in the afternoon, the temperature dropped, and by nightfall Mr.

　　Avery’s direst predictions came true: Calpurnia kept every fireplace in the house blazing,but we were cold. When Atticus came home that evening he said we were in for it, andasked Calpurnia if she wanted to stay with us for the night. Calpurnia glanced up at thehigh ceilings and long windows and said she thought she’d be warmer at her house.

　　Atticus drove her home in the car.

　　Before I went to sleep Atticus put more coal on the fire in my room. He said thethermometer registered sixteen, that it was the coldest night in his memory, and that oursnowman outside was frozen solid.

　　Minutes later, it seemed, I was awakened by someone shaking me. Atticus’s overcoatwas spread across me. “Is it morning already?”

　　“Baby, get up.”

　　Atticus was holding out my bathrobe and coat. “Put your robe on first,” he said.

　　Jem was standing beside Atticus, groggy and tousled. He was holding his overcoatclosed at the neck, his other hand was jammed into his pocket. He looked strangelyoverweight.

　　“Hurry, hon,” said Atticus. “Here’re your shoes and socks.”

　　Stupidly, I put them on. “Is it morning?”

　　“No, it’s a little after one. Hurry now.”

　　That something was wrong finally got through to me. “What’s the matter?”

　　By then he did not have to tell me. Just as the birds know where to go when it rains, Iknew when there was trouble in our street. Soft taffeta-like sounds and muffled scurryingsounds filled me with helpless dread.

　　“Whose is it?”

　　“Miss Maudie’s, hon,” said Atticus gently.

　　At the front door, we saw fire spewing from Miss Maudie’s diningroom windows. As ifto confirm what we saw, the town fire siren wailed up the scale to a treble pitch andremained there, screaming.

　　“It’s gone, ain’t it?” moaned Jem.

　　“I expect so,” said Atticus. “Now listen, both of you. Go down and stand in front of theRadley Place. Keep out of the way, do you hear? See which way the wind’s blowing?”

　　“Oh,” said Jem. “Atticus, reckon we oughta start moving the furniture out?”

　　“Not yet, son. Do as I tell you. Run now. Take care of Scout, you hear? Don’t let herout of your sight.”

　　With a push, Atticus started us toward the Radley front gate. We stood watching thestreet fill with men and cars while fire silently devoured Miss Maudie’s house. “Why don’tthey hurry, why don’t they hurry…” muttered Jem.

　　We saw why. The old fire truck, killed by the cold, was being pushed from town by acrowd of men. When the men attached its hose to a hydrant, the hose burst and watershot up, tinkling down on the pavement.

　　“Oh-h Lord, Jem…”

　　Jem put his arm around me. “Hush, Scout,” he said. “It ain’t time to worry yet. I’ll letyou know when.”

　　The men of Maycomb, in all degrees of dress and undress, took furniture from MissMaudie’s house to a yard across the street. I saw Atticus carrying Miss Maudie’s heavyoak rocking chair, and thought it sensible of him to save what she valued most.

　　Sometimes we heard shouts. Then Mr. Avery’s face appeared in an upstairs window.

　　He pushed a mattress out the window into the street and threw down furniture until menshouted, “Come down from there, Dick! The stairs are going! Get outta there, Mr.

　　Avery!”

　　Mr. Avery began climbing through the window.

　　“Scout, he’s stuck…” breathed Jem. “Oh God…”

　　Mr. Avery was wedged tightly. I buried my head under Jem’s arm and didn’t look againuntil Jem cried, “He’s got loose, Scout! He’s all right!”

　　I looked up to see Mr. Avery cross the upstairs porch. He swung his legs over therailing and was sliding down a pillar when he slipped. He fell, yelled, and hit MissMaudie’s shrubbery.

　　Suddenly I noticed that the men were backing away from Miss Maudie’s house,moving down the street toward us. They were no longer carrying furniture. The fire waswell into the second floor and had eaten its way to the roof: window frames were blackagainst a vivid orange center.

　　“Jem, it looks like a pumpkin—”

　　“Scout, look!”

　　Smoke was rolling off our house and Miss Rachel’s house like fog off a riverbank, andmen were pulling hoses toward them. Behind us, the fire truck from Abbottsvillescreamed around the curve and stopped in front of our house.

　　“That book…” I said.

　　“What?” said Jem.

　　“That Tom Swift book, it ain’t mine, it’s Dill’s…”

　　“Don’t worry, Scout, it ain’t time to worry yet,” said Jem. He pointed. “Looka yonder.”

　　In a group of neighbors, Atticus was standing with his hands in his overcoat pockets.

　　He might have been watching a football game. Miss Maudie was beside him.

　　“See there, he’s not worried yet,” said Jem.

　　“Why ain’t he on top of one of the houses?”

　　“He’s too old, he’d break his neck.”

　　“You think we oughta make him get our stuff out?”

　　“Let’s don’t pester him, he’ll know when it’s time,” said Jem.

　　The Abbottsville fire truck began pumping water on our house; a man on the roofpointed to places that needed it most. I watched our Absolute Morphodite go black andcrumble; Miss Maudie’s sunhat settled on top of the heap. I could not see her hedge-clippers. In the heat between our house, Miss Rachel’s and Miss Maudie’s, the men hadlong ago shed coats and bathrobes. They worked in pajama tops and nightshirts stuffedinto their pants, but I became aware that I was slowly freezing where I stood. Jem triedto keep me warm, but his arm was not enough. I pulled free of it and clutched myshoulders. By dancing a little, I could feel my feet.

　　Another fire truck appeared and stopped in front of Miss Stephanie Crawford’s. Therewas no hydrant for another hose, and the men tried to soak her house with handextinguishers.

　　Miss Maudie’s tin roof quelled the flames. Roaring, the house collapsed; fire gushedeverywhere, followed by a flurry of blankets from men on top of the adjacent houses,beating out sparks and burning chunks of wood.

　　It was dawn before the men began to leave, first one by one, then in groups. Theypushed the Maycomb fire truck back to town, the Abbottsville truck departed, the thirdone remained. We found out next day it had come from Clark’s Ferry, sixty miles away.

　　Jem and I slid across the street. Miss Maudie was staring at the smoking black hole inher yard, and Atticus shook his head to tell us she did not want to talk. He led us home,holding onto our shoulders to cross the icy street. He said Miss Maudie would stay withMiss Stephanie for the time being.

　　“Anybody want some hot chocolate?” he asked. I shuddered when Atticus started afire in the kitchen stove.

　　As we drank our cocoa I noticed Atticus looking at me, first with curiosity, then withsternness. “I thought I told you and Jem to stay put,” he said.

　　“Why, we did. We stayed—”

　　“Then whose blanket is that?”

　　“Blanket?”

　　“Yes ma’am, blanket. It isn’t ours.”

　　I looked down and found myself clutching a brown woolen blanket I was wearingaround my shoulders, squaw-fashion.

　　“Atticus, I don’t know, sir… I—”

　　I turned to Jem for an answer, but Jem was even more bewildered than I. He said hedidn’t know how it got there, we did exactly as Atticus had told us, we stood down by theRadley gate away from everybody, we didn’t move an inch—Jem stopped.

　　“Mr. Nathan was at the fire,” he babbled, “I saw him, I saw him, he was tuggin‘ thatmattress—Atticus, I swear…”

　　“That’s all right, son.” Atticus grinned slowly. “Looks like all of Maycomb was outtonight, in one way or another. Jem, there’s some wrapping paper in the pantry, I think.

　　Go get it and we’ll—”

　　“Atticus, no sir!”

　　Jem seemed to have lost his mind. He began pouring out our secrets right and left intotal disregard for my safety if not for his own, omitting nothing, knot-hole, pants and all.

　　“…Mr. Nathan put cement in that tree, Atticus, an‘ he did it to stop us findin’ things—he’s crazy, I reckon, like they say, but Atticus, I swear to God he ain’t ever harmed us,he ain’t ever hurt us, he coulda cut my throat from ear to ear that night but he tried tomend my pants instead… he ain’t ever hurt us, Atticus—”

　　Atticus said, “Whoa, son,” so gently that I was greatly heartened. It was obvious thathe had not followed a word Jem said, for all Atticus said was, “You’re right. We’d betterkeep this and the blanket to ourselves. Someday, maybe, Scout can thank him forcovering her up.”

　　“Thank who?” I asked.

　　“Boo Radley. You were so busy looking at the fire you didn’t know it when he put theblanket around you.”

　　My stomach turned to water and I nearly threw up when Jem held out the blanket andcrept toward me. “He sneaked out of the house—turn ‘round—sneaked up, an’ went likethis!”

　　Atticus said dryly, “Do not let this inspire you to further glory, Jeremy.”

　　Jem scowled, “I ain’t gonna do anything to him,” but I watched the spark of freshadventure leave his eyes. “Just think, Scout,” he said, “if you’d just turned around,you’da seen him.”

　　Calpurnia woke us at noon. Atticus had said we need not go to school that day, we’dlearn nothing after no sleep. Calpurnia said for us to try and clean up the front yard.

　　Miss Maudie’s sunhat was suspended in a thin layer of ice, like a fly in amber, and wehad to dig under the dirt for her hedge-clippers. We found her in her back yard, gazingat her frozen charred azaleas. “We’re bringing back your things, Miss Maudie,” saidJem. “We’re awful sorry.”

　　Miss Maudie looked around, and the shadow of her old grin crossed her face. “Alwayswanted a smaller house, Jem Finch. Gives me more yard. Just think, I’ll have moreroom for my azaleas now!”

　　“You ain’t grievin‘, Miss Maudie?” I asked, surprised. Atticus said her house wasnearly all she had.

　　“Grieving, child? Why, I hated that old cow barn. Thought of settin‘ fire to it a hundredtimes myself, except they’d lock me up.”

　　“But—”

　　“Don’t you worry about me, Jean Louise Finch. There are ways of doing things youdon’t know about. Why, I’ll build me a little house and take me a couple of roomersand—gracious, I’ll have the finest yard in Alabama. Those Bellingraths’ll look plain punywhen I get started!”

　　Jem and I looked at each other. “How’d it catch, Miss Maudie?” he asked.

　　“I don’t know, Jem. Probably the flue in the kitchen. I kept a fire in there last night formy potted plants. Hear you had some unexpected company last night, Miss JeanLouise.”

　　“How’d you know?”

　　“Atticus told me on his way to town this morning. Tell you the truth, I’d like to’ve beenwith you. And I’d‘ve had sense enough to turn around, too.”

　　Miss Maudie puzzled me. With most of her possessions gone and her beloved yard ashambles, she still took a lively and cordial interest in Jem’s and my affairs.

　　She must have seen my perplexity. She said, “Only thing I worried about last nightwas all the danger and commotion it caused. This whole neighborhood could have goneup. Mr. Avery’ll be in bed for a week—he’s right stove up. He’s too old to do things likethat and I told him so. Soon as I can get my hands clean and when StephanieCrawford’s not looking, I’ll make him a Lane cake. That Stephanie’s been after myrecipe for thirty years, and if she thinks I’ll give it to her just because I’m staying with hershe’s got another think coming.”

　　I reflected that if Miss Maudie broke down and gave it to her, Miss Stephanie couldn’tfollow it anyway. Miss Maudie had once let me see it: among other things, the recipecalled for one large cup of sugar.

　　It was a still day. The air was so cold and clear we heard the courthouse clock clank,rattle and strain before it struck the hour. Miss Maudie’s nose was a color I had neverseen before, and I inquired about it.

　　“I’ve been out here since six o’clock,” she said. “Should be frozen by now.” She heldup her hands. A network of tiny lines crisscrossed her palms, brown with dirt and driedblood.

　　“You’ve ruined ‘em,” said Jem. “Why don’t you get a colored man?” There was no noteof sacrifice in his voice when he added, “Or Scout’n’me, we can help you.”

　　Miss Maudie said, “Thank you sir, but you’ve got a job of your own over there.” Shepointed to our yard.

　　“You mean the Morphodite?” I asked. “Shoot, we can rake him up in a jiffy.”

　　Miss Maudie stared down at me, her lips moving silently. Suddenly she put her handsto her head and whooped. When we left her, she was still chuckling.

　　Jem said he didn’t know what was the matter with her—that was just Miss Maudie.

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1 yorum Devamini oku

NORTH RICHMOND STREET being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers’ School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.

The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communnicant and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes under one of which I found the late tenant’s rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister.

When the short days of winter came dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan’s sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan’s steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.

Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.

Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs’ cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-all-you about O’Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: “O love! O love!” many times.

At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar, she said she would love to go.

“And why can’t you?” I asked.

While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.

“It’s well for you,” she said.

“If I go,” I said, “I will bring you something.”

What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master’s face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child’s play, ugly monotonous child’s play.

On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly:

“Yes, boy, I know.”

As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I left the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me.

When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and. when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high cold empty gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress.

When I came downstairs again I found Mrs. Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old garrulous woman, a pawnbroker’s widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs. Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn’t wait any longer, but it was after eight o’clock and she did not like to be out late as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said:

“I’m afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord.”

At nine o’clock I heard my uncle’s latchkey in the halldoor. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten.

“The people are in bed and after their first sleep now,” he said.

I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically:

“Can’t you give him the money and let him go? You’ve kept him late enough as it is.”

My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” He asked me where I was going and, when I had told him a second time he asked me did I know The Arab’s Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt.

I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous house and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name.

I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man. I found myself in a big hall girdled at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognised a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Cafe Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins.

Remembering with difficulty why I had come I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea — sets. At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation.

“O, I never said such a thing!”

“O, but you did!”

“O, but I didn’t!”

“Didn’t she say that?”

“Yes. I heard her.”

“0, there’s a . . . fib!”

Observing me the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured:

“No, thank you.”

The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder.

I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark.

Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.

1 yorum Devamini oku

Because their parents for a living because reading the sixth grade primary school, they rent a house to live.

Long narrow house, such as Matchbox depressing; blessed with a good ventilation lighting small mezzanine floor, lead to a less than two square and narrow balcony. Cramped by the mother of a plant, also showed the flowers.

Better yet, soon later new neighbors -- swallow.

For a start, only occasionally three two pass by, a little rest in the eaves. May think that here is the safety goal after a period of time, the number of visit frequently, often can hear them whisper.

Balcony clothes, for these " secondary" the casual visitor, careful not to disturb the mother. Later may be used, these " gentleman " stopped for a long time, if you look at it, small eyes with you to see! One day, a pair of swallows simply stay on the edge of the roof, a beautiful home, all whispering, double double return. Pass by the partners remain as before, often come here to " drop", as a left.

In this regard, the mother told me not to harass them, she would have approved the " board " little neighbor. Mother believe swallows can bring auspicious: swallow, family circle.

There are two small guy to accompany, natural feel interesting. Sometimes I pretend to the balcony ventilated, peep their nests, sometimes encounter that revealed a trace of vigilance dark eyes, I dare not look, turned away or enter, so as not to really alarmed they. Reportedly, the barn swallow could feel the hostility, once found, has decided to leave home, never come back.

They will think I am not hostile; then I went to the balcony, have completely disdained to take care of me, whispering, busy a happy.

Moved around the neighborhood children, age is not familiar, like a man in the attic window put a Zhuotai do homework or graffiti.

Through the wood window gray old, a little of the sky, the interpretation of the four seasons change, the replacement of twenty-four solar term. Clouds, rain, fog, clouds, stars, moon ... ... Or, flashing and the swallow, sparrow, jump across the roof air and flying and cemented with a dot eagle, even across the roof of a nameless grass, can be used in poetry. To burnout, inadvertently looked up, these free fresh elements, let me comfort. Said no reason, then love stared at the sky, enjoying a little quiet, enjoying with bright windows and clean tables fantasy.

For the memory of hometown fragments, the sky is clean, very quiet at night. During the day the clouds quietly changing, surf the uncertain, such as Erlang chasing Sun Wukong at the battle of wits. In the evening, the sunset blew, such as silk, such as Jin ling. Farming people riding bicycles to Dutch hoe, the smoke curl upwards, Lane head at the end of from time to time, call the son to eat ... ... The love for you, the house cricket scroop, distant water grass frog sound, around a quiet, peaceful, pure, mixed with the neighborhood kids crying sound, adults sleep sound or low scold, who came with it.

Occasionally, can not help but think of the dead man, as well as those under the kerosene lamp in her old songs and stories, the same night. Forget that it reflects the soft yellow light and peaceful eyes ... ... Only a short while ago, the eyes through the many years of distant galaxies, such as light, and threw herself into my mind, let me as like the Milky way, tearful eyes dim.

Just go to the other side of life far away, still think so.

Next to a house by the side of the house, exactly is an ancestral temple, already no one lives. In every major traditional worship, the owner before they came back, I asked mother to take care of.

The old wooden door is mottled. Change the vicissitudes and the world, indistinct obtained from interpretation can stay on top. A pair of bronze doors hanging on the front door ring. The knocker is worn out and dim light. When there is a naughty boy ran to put it knocked " Du, Du, Du " sound, not next door neighbor woman on crutches, a three inch lotus feet out of the drink, he laughed away far.

Open the heavy door, across the stone threshold, it is the patio. Courtyard flanked by two building opposite the door, and made a roof tile chimney -- symmetric pattern, much like the courtyard layout. Before a large house, around the courtyard of the real home, brother sister-in-law, their next generations are living together, mutual of entertainment, and enjoyable; even if the occasional episode, some elderly mediation, attributed to the overall harmonious.

Yin Yin warm cold, spring summer autumn winter, from the quadrangle courtyard the narrow sky, can be a. Raise a lot of flowers, the owner left, like a green mother Shundaizhao together on.

I prefer is on the corner of the tree climbing on the wall of the honeysuckle.

* * * * garden does not close. Honeysuckle rattan half leaning half rely on climbed to the top of the wall, beautiful, but not frivolous flavor. In addition to call " honeysuckle ", in fact there is a romantic name: "Mandarin rattan ", this is due to: honeysuckle leaves are opposite, the flowers are in pairs in axils of leaves, like a pair of lovers never separation. " Honeysuckle, honeysuckle, this rich, the coming year students good child " don't know when I pass the little rhyme handed down from the ancestors of the mouth, ran with a good sign, the villagers will love planting honeysuckle. Honeysuckle and easy maintenance, with stems inserted soil, appropriate nursing can be poured survival, the continuation of incense. Can summer shade, there can be medicine, deep value people love.

The old house inside the tree honeysuckle has been a considerable time, thick stem, a lot of rattan wrapped together, one to think a lot of trees. It is usually in late spring to summer blossom, but a lot of beautiful flowers, and fragrant, more love is used to boil water to drink, heat-clearing and detoxifying, go to the hot and dry. See her mother pick once, I volunteered for this mission, flowers.

Flowers are generally higher, not to touch, seek to bamboo, in the end the wire wrapped around a hook hook -- not too big, enough to hook Ka To, Teng to have patience, after turning around a few laps hook rattan, rattan, weakened again pull can obtain honeysuckle. If impatient, a direct hit with a bamboo pole, the results are flowers and crushing. Also take blossomend side leaflets to clean water, or a leaf, will let you feel like eating Coptis chinensis. Though bitter, but also effects of vine leaves. Remember once who have eczema, the mother will cook soup, To leaves water to give me the body scrub, for 10 consecutive days, the cure. Later, I will remember the effective prescriptions, decided to my future children.

Gold and silver flower diagonal is a well, shallow, Izumi Natsuryo winter. Summer was there a shower, very excited! Rushed to the later, even want to simply jump well soaked through, never, because there are two or three fish in the well, do not know when will have. I do not know when, there are several gaps in the well wall, when he discovered that some people close to the water, they hide in the gap. Often lie on the ledge, motionless, look at them carefully until it swim out.

Then it is the ancestral hall. Inside the light deficiency. The roof has a small glass sunroof, increases the lighting. A little light on the cool wet cement floor, more adds to the surrounding shadows and silence.

I was almost afraid to go alone, mother accompany.

Remember the ancestral hall on the wall hung a long wooden. The shelf board is divided into several compartments, lattice space just can hold their picture, it should be the last generation. The lattice of incense before not timely clear, full of vetiver, some crowded to fall. Also beside the dotted with other sacrificial items or respect vessel.

Wooden shelf there are some patterns: full of fruit of the pomegranate tree, the big carp jump ... ... Carved or engraved. The highest bar carved five bats, don't order between line, makes me feel strange pattern. Her mother explained, bat is not a blessing. Originally, five bats representing five bat ( Fu) Rimmon, expressed the desire for happiness and the pursuit of peace, and plenty of life in a prayer and spiritual. Later, hanging bat in the city of G when reading has also seen a hall door, the number is only seven, but I guess the meaning should be the same.

Our old house outside lay a stone mill, which is against the wall, to put down when the chess table.

Sometimes the neighborhood children to jump to play. Sometimes a man across the two lane's waddling, quietly sitting on top, with a quiet smoke, shriveled hands to hold a match . A pipe of tobacco, rarely talk to passersby it, didn't know what to think. After smoking, and hobbled away.

The old house like a man. His birthday has not test, but I believe when you were born, the family must think is a good day. The story about him, has not test, but that he also has a touching live experience. Although there is no longer reproduce the rising wave of smoke in the chimney smoke, sons and daughters marry married at the door like gun diffuse light, or red in the smashing seal burning smoke ... ... The story has become vague, incomplete, but the ancestors in the oral memories, still intermittent spread.

Rent for a year and a half, the home together with to buy suites, choose an auspicious day, new year, ready to move.

That evening, things have moved on a pickup truck, my mother told me to pick up the flowers, balcony. She was reluctant to abandon, even the humble grass, and carefully cultivated.

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Carrying a pot, looking around, gradually some blurred, a time do not know what to do.

Golden sunset gives old tile roof rafters, covered with a beautiful sunset. That piece of corrugated reflected soft light, as if a piece of golden robes. In this such as the Buddha's halo light, feel the house seems to have become a solemn temples, carrying the vicissitudes of the years, hosting a trace of life, such as Zen like abstruse.

Downstairs, I could hear the attic roof sounded the call swallowling.

1 yorum Devamini oku

 In the middle of the broad, fertile plain that stretches away in the direction of the Rhine, a mile and a quarter from Mulhausen, the camp was pitched. In the fitful light of the overcast August day, beneath the lowering sky that was filled with heavy drifting clouds, the long lines of squat white shelter-tents seemed to cower closer to the ground, and the muskets, stacked at regular intervals along the regimental fronts, made little spots of brightness, while over all the sentries with loaded pieces kept watch and ward, motionless as statues, straining their eyes to pierce the purplish mists that lay on the horizon and showed where the mighty river ran.

But it was ten o'clock, and Gaude, rising to his feet from the ground where he had been lost

1 yorum Devamini oku