A child, a summer vacation, an old house, a piece of countryside, a ray of sunshine, a piece of shade, a roar of insects, a night of thunderstorms, and a bit of fantasy, it is not only an unreachable fairy tale in the movie, but also a haunting memory. If yesterday was true. The evening sunlight casts slanting shadows through the window with the wooden slats in the middle. Part of it shines on the mat woven with yellowed bamboo strips, and the other part shines on the face and hands of the boy sleeping on his side. Because his face was half-rested on his arm, his mouth was squeezed out of shape, slightly opened, and saliva flowed from his arm to the mat. The sun became more and more slanted, and it hit the child's eyes. He slowly woke up, rubbed his eyes randomly, turned to his side, and turned into a lying flat. The sullen eyes did not have any spirit, just stared blankly at the window. Shadows, they were just shadows, they were just a few beams of light cast by the sunlight that slipped in through the gaps between the wooden slats, but it was still the shape of a window. He just stared at the beams of light. It seems that he can really see through the seat and see outside the "window". The temperature in midsummer finally cooled down when it was close to midnight. Two benches on the dam in front of the house held a cool bed, and the little boy fell asleep on it. The cool bed is made of small bamboos one by one. Although it is very elastic, it sometimes feels a little sloppy. However, the boy slept on it, and gradually felt the cool night wind blowing, and the frogs croaked in the fields not far from the dam, so drowsiness gradually climbed up and slowly closed his eyes. One or two mosquitoes flew close, buzzing around his head, looking for a place to stay. As the buzzing sound suddenly became smaller, his face was itchy, and the boy's small slap slapped his face, but it didn't hit him. Although his face didn't hurt, his sleepiness was half gone. Mosquitoes approached again, and he waved and slapped again. After going back and forth, the mosquitoes didn't hit him, but they woke him up. The night sky in summer is still full of stars as usual. Ever since Zhang Heng learned the story of counting stars at night in the text and became an astronomer, the boy has tried to count many times, but he either forgets where he is when he counts, or just forgets where he is. I fell asleep by counting myself, so I just stopped counting now, my eyes wandered randomly on the starry sky, and my mind wandered along with it. The roof of the old house looks quite high during the day, but now I'm sleeping in bed listening to the sound of the rain, and I can't see anything in the middle of the night, as if I can reach out and pick up a handful of water. The raindrops hit the tiles on the roof one by one, and if it hadn't been denser quickly, maybe I could count how many there were. The sound of thunder also came in waves, some of which seemed to be thrown on the roof by the Heavenly Lord. Although he was used to it, it still surprised the little boy. In fact, even if it was raining, the sultry heat would not dissipate for a while, but the little boy still wrapped his thin sheet tightly, shrunk his exposed feet in, and then moved to the side against the wall, hunched over. The body is facing inward against the wall, not afraid, but likes to wrap himself tightly while listening to the thunderstorm. The bed is placed on the side of the house against the wall, and the bottom of the wall is a layer of wooden boards, and the top is covered with lime. From the beginning of my memory, the house is like this. On the other side of the wall is the ditch behind the house. The rainwater collects in the tile trough on the roof, like a stream, flowing from the eaves into the ditch that has long been full of water, and the crisp sound is in his ears. It sounded, a rushing flow, the little boy opened his eyes in the dark, and his heart also flowed. ...... In the summer of childhood, the saliva in the afternoon soaked the mat, the mosquitoes in the summer night drove away the sleepiness, and the sound of rain on the roof entered my heart. I still remember those who are boring, but have forgotten those grotesque. In the summer of childhood, the saliva in the afternoon soaked the mat, the mosquitoes in the summer night drove away the sleepiness, and the sound of rain on the roof entered my heart. I still remember those who are boring, but have forgotten those grotesque. In the summer of childhood, the saliva in the afternoon soaked the mat, the mosquitoes in the summer night drove away the sleepiness, and the sound of rain on the roof entered my heart. I still remember those who are boring, but have forgotten those grotesque.
View more about A Letter to Momo reviews
