In fact, the first one feels like another typical American nostalgia. After listening to the whole soundtrack, I suddenly burst into tears with empathy.
I am a child who grew up by the river. I was born on the corner of the Yangtze River and grew up in the Three Gorges immigration era. I remember the once turbulent yellow river, and the Erma Road that was submerged by the river with only photos left.
Where I live is always close to the water, I walk on the beach, on the pebbles, on the stone stairs that lead to the riverbed, or the stream with the crabs hidden. I have washed clothes, showered, and let go of the river lights in the Yangtze River. I can see the Yangtze River Bridge when I open the window in my bedroom. The water rises and floods the gray-white piers, leaving green grass when the water falls.
Almost all of my childhood travel memories are related to the Yangtze River. Whether it’s down the river or up to tears, I rowed a canoe, took a cruise ship, and played rafting in different branches of this river.
The river also sounded the flood season alarm and engulfed my classmates. Every summer, along with the scorching sun and watermelon, there is also the teacher's warning year after year: "It is forbidden to swim in the river." After high school I left the corner of the Yangtze River and went to the confluence of the two rivers. In my dormitory, I can still see the Chaotianmen Bridge when I open the window, and the neon lights at night exist in all my high school dreams. My weekends are always inseparable from the scenery along the light rail along the river, sitting from one end of the river to the other. When the exam was smashed, some students walked along the Jialing River all the way to Chaotianmen. There are burning clouds and endless summer winds on the riverside that I am used to seeing. Later, I finally left the riverside. Since then, the Yangtze River is no longer a mark on the map, or a distance when asking for directions, but all my memories.
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