Sitting in the empty classroom on the weekend, Ning Zhiyuan suddenly felt that he was a reed that came to the Yuejiang River from the countryside, a reed that grew in the seventies. Standing in the cold river with two feet, as soon as the wind blows and the waves hit, he will fall, and when the wind passes, he has to stand up tenaciously and laugh at the bleak situation of life. He was inspired and put pen to paper in a sketchbook.

My pampoos

This morning, a friend asked me why you are called Pujia, and whether it means reed. I replied yes, reeds in the water. I asked why I was so low-key, I was so low-key, and I felt sad when I thought about it. I replied, in fact, I have always been, standing by the river, and I have been dipping my feet in the water, standing until the flowers bloom and fall, and I am one year old and one year old. And I said, "If you know the reed, you don't necessarily know the person like the reed." And I said, I know, I'm one of them.

Pujia, also known as reed, is called Bamao in the hometown, which can be folded into a pistol, made into a car, and waved into a flag...... Can be pieced together into all the joys of childhood. In those years when the land was just contracted to the households, our parents planted us in the ground like barmao, and we withered and flourished, allowing us to take root, sprout, grow leaves, blossom, and wither. Bamao could be seen everywhere in the countryside at that time, and every household cut it to make firewood, crackling, burning everywhere with cooking smoke, and blackening how much muddy face. At that time, Ba Mao was happy with us, a lot of tears, a lot of bitterness.

When I called Ba Mao Pu Jia, I was already sitting at my desk at the normal school. The girl who is like water in her hometown has long since become a migratory bird and flown to the south. I was like a trembling reed, suddenly breaking into the reinforced concrete city from the countryside, and I couldn't find the black soil to bear.

Ferrying himself with books, although the auspicious and unpredictable future, but also often fantasize about the romance of "the willow tops on the moon, and the people about after dusk" after reaching the other side. The sprout of youth is constantly swaying by the Yue River, and there is a female classmate with a good face who can often walk into dreams, and I forget that I am actually just a reed inadvertently in the countryside, blooming in spring, growing in summer, and killing in autumn. Huainan is orange, Huaibei is orange, and the difference between water and soil makes me congenitally insufficient. The branches and reeds blow less, and there is no barren grass at the end of the world. Often in the middle of the night, sitting in front of a barbecue stall with thick smoke, or in a KTV full of broken sounds, endure the floating name, change the shallow singing, a thousand years ago, the helplessness of the romantic lyricist is really going to be fulfilled in himself?

Now the reeds are inadvertently transplanted to the bank of the Yue River, this strange water, there are no kingfishers, no sand gulls, only a little breeze, misty floating. There is no spring river plumbing, and there is no wind left by Banqiao, only the feet wet in the river water tell me all over and over that I am a reed, not a towering tree, nor a solid reef, when the wind blows, I will still fall, and when the water is drowned, I will still sink to the bottom of the river.

If we can't change our fate, we must change our character, we should all try to adapt to God's arrangement like a reed, and the trivialities that are dictated by others bury our ambitions and prides day by day. The reed retreat to the countryside cannot be said to be the indifference of the city, the real reason is the reed itself, the untimely mass fate and the artificial desertification of the living soil.

Standing quietly by the Yuejiang River, watching the water flow quietly eastward, his eyes full of thoughts, rising with the ebb and flow of the tide.

The swaying pampas have a delicate and handsome face, and their hearts are already gray-haired.

After a slight revision, before the evening self-study, he ran to the post office and sent it to the magazine "Juvenile Literature".