Record the dots of life DiDi
Precipitated over the years
When I was a child, my mother made sweet potato starch every year. That time, my mother put some milk-like liquid into a glass jar, saying that she would wait for the starch to settle. My mother said that those have been filtered, and after a while, starch will come out. I sat by and watched how the starch settled little by little.
A lifetime of companionship
She was an elf waiting in front of the Buddha. One day when she was looking at the world in the mirror, she saw a man, dressed in a dark blue robe, standing calmly in the street market, lonely and arrogant. The elf was immediately moved. She pointed to the man and said to the Buddha, Buddha, can you grant me a wish? The Buddha smiled, looked at the flower in his hand, and said to her, what do you want? The elf said, I am going to accompany that man.
The Fruit Festival is here, and the deer brings a basket of big oranges to the stupid bear. The stupid bear ate one after another, and after a while, there was only one orange left in the basket. The stupid bear was reluctant to eat it. I thought, if only there was a big orange tree.
The story of the rose and the snowman
The weather in winter was already very cold, and those weeds had long been dry and yellow and yellow, and they would burn with a fire. Those tall poplar trees and old locust trees also dropped the last leaf, shivering in the northwest wind.
More than a month ago, when I was still in Beijing, I heard people tell about an artist, and I remember one of the stories was about the artist and the dog. It is said that the artist lives in a small city, and the family next door has a puppy, and he gets along well with the artist, and the artist often treats him with food. During the "Cultural Revolution", there was a fight in the city that had never been seen before, and the artist became frightened and fled to hide elsewhere for a period of time. Later, when he came back, he was probably pulled back, saying that he was "foreign to the outside world" and a counter-revolutionary. He criticized him and fought him. If he didn't admit it, he beat him, punched and kicked him, and hit him with sticks. Not only did his head bleed, but one leg was also broken. When the fight was over, he couldn't walk, and let the dictatorship team drag him through the streets to show the public, his clothes were torn, his body was covered in blood and dirt, and his mouth groaned. Anyone who knew him saw him half dead, he turned his head away. Suddenly a puppy ran out of the crowd and ran towards him very happily. It screamed affectionately, jumped in front of him, sniffed everywhere, licked its tongue, and stroked his body with its paws. It was useless for others to drive it away, kick it, hit it with a stick, it had to stay with its friends. In the end, the dictatorship broke the puppy's hind legs with a big stick, and it let out a few whines and dragged its crippled body away in pain. There was blood on the ground, and the artist left several dog paw prints on his rags. The artist was locked up for a few years before he was released, and the first thing he did was to buy a few catties of meat to visit the puppy. Neighbors told him that after the dog was broken that day, he returned home without eating anything and died after wailing for three days.
Elephant cemetery life and death struggle
In late April 2003, I organized an expedition of eleven people into the Masalobi jungle in southern Kenya. Among them were Germans, British, Americans, and four people from the local Luau tribe who were hired as guides and porters. In addition, we also brought a specially trained hound, Saike. The purpose of our trip was to find the elephant cemetery that has plagued biology for many years. For thousands of years, people have never found the carcass of a dead elephant in the wild, so there are legends that elephants will leave the herd alone before dying and go to a mysterious place to meet their doom. Everyone has been very happy to cooperate along the way, and Chad, Esmand and Martin and I have made careful preparations before this expedition officially starts. The only woman on the expedition, Liu Ya, is a young Ph.D. in biology, who, like me, is also from China.
Death of the male owl falcon
In the mountains of Binga, Mozambique, live the masterpiece of God that best represents wild Africa, the owl falcon. Owl falcons do not have any natural enemies, they are the overlords at the top of the food chain, except for humans. The Inga people, one of the few indigenous people in Mozambique, still retain the habit of safari life, and owl falcons are the best hunting helpers passed down from generation to generation.