Khaled Hosseini's

Autumn leaves covered the window lattice, perhaps remember, is also such a autumn, picked up a book, painted a window story, had an encounter, then covered with bookish.

The green in early autumn is deep blue. Look at the cloud roll Yun Shu, complacent and illusory, suddenly remembered a "breeze blowing out of date, then turned into a garden of Yu Xiang", deja vu feeling to me.

Though occasionally I read them, I remember some beautiful and meaningful sentences, and read them with a low brow when I rise, but when I have nothing to do, I do not care. Mid autumn, busy with study. The teacher assigned a few compositions, there are a few small poems engraved in the article, unexpectedly, always composition is not outstanding I became the focus. The pure words are in the text

Chapter like a stream gurgling, holding to read long aftertaste. When the teacher and classmates praise into my eyes, I feel proud, only to realize the beautiful artistic conception of the poem, and began to seriously read the poetry.

Carefully read, the low eyebrow bow, thin eyebrow light wrinkle girl, the long water like feelings and melancholy roam in my heart; The flowering tree, the missing of each leaf, the "month clothes I to China clothes" youth, step on the month, with the book fragrance, into the heart......

After the late autumn, I was immersed in the sea of books. I adore the wistful and bright mood in Rong's poems; I love Shen Congwen's "Border Town", "Dragon Zhu" and "Tiger Chick" in the pure and beautiful humanity; I love Kawabata Yasunari's Chiaeko, Kauko... The fate of the slender and delicate beauty; I loved Khaled Hosseini's "A Thousand Splendid SUNS," "The Mountains Sing Back," and the dream of a kite runner lost at the end of Afghanistan. I love Sanmao's wandering, love big ice rivers and lakes, love "there is a person like you, such as the sunshine of the ancient city", love Qingshan seven hui "a person's good time", and that the warmest "summer courtyard"...... They make me see the world with optimism, sensitivity and purity.

The memory of the autumn, picked up a book, filled with a window story.

Hello, everyone. I am a poplar tree. My body is very slim, with a very thick head of hair, green. I was painted to protect myself from insects, as if I were wearing a snow-white dress.

I now live in a sapling factory, close to other saplings, and chat with my companions every day. One day, a little boy came. The boy took out some money and said to the boss, "Boss, I want to buy a poplar tree." "All right." The boss brought out a bundle and I was among them. The little boy chose and chose, looking and looking, fixed his eyes on me: "This sapling is straight, and also very green, take this!" The boss gave me the bag to the little boy, the little boy took me a hop home.

After returning home, the master brought a small shovel, dug a big pit in the fertile soil, put me in, and covered my body with soil, sprinkled water and went away. I looked around. "Well, yes, there are flowers, grass, and a small pond. It's really a beautiful place." The little master came to see me every day to help me water, I think life is too comfortable.

It was time for the master to go to school, he was busy with his homework every day, no time for me, also did not give me soil, watering for a long time. One day, the sun is like fire, the ground is very hot, the flowers are dead, the water in the pond is almost dry, I can not stand the thirst, my leaves also become yellow, these soil tightly around me, I can not breathe. How I wish it would rain.

"Wow", sure enough, it rained, I quickly gulp to drink, and let their leaves full of rain. But the rain one after another, the wind blew my leaves, the branches were blown away a lot, the rain seems to wash me away, I desperately use my feet to grasp the soil, hard to drill into the soil.

The rain stopped, the rainbow came out, and I stretched, as if I felt myself growing taller.