A photo, recording a story; A photo tells an experience; There is a memory in a photo; A picture of a face contains an emotion.
Mom was sorting out photos on the computer, so I leaned in and took a look. One of the photos, on the beautiful prairie, I smiled brightly. ...
I remember when I was six years old, my mother took me to play on the Inner Mongolia prairie.
As soon as you get off the bus, you can smell the fragrance of the soil. The grass is tender, all green from bottom to top, and there is no movement. Scattered sheep are like white flowers embedded in a green ocean. The sky here is particularly blue, simple and calm. The idle clouds are faint and leisurely, changing various postures and enjoying the beautiful scenery of the grassland. And all this, through the dawn of life, through the moisture of morning rain, seems so fresh and quiet. Looking pleasing to the eye, there are many white mushroom-shaped yurts, and there are several horses grazing leisurely next to them. They are attracted by the scent of wild flowers from time to time, as if they have a special nostalgia for it. I was almost drunk and wanted to run, for fear of ruining the tranquility of this picture; I want to shout, but I'm afraid of disturbing the peace of this picture. I had to lie quietly on the grass and giggle at the blue sky ... at this moment, my mother took out her camera and took this unforgettable moment.
This photo took my childhood and the beautiful rivers and mountains of my motherland.
2. The story composition of a photo is 400 words.
I have taken countless photos since I was a child, and the most unforgettable one is this photo taken during my trip to Huangshan Mountain.
On the first day of this year-New Year's Day, my family traveled to Huangshan, where the scenery was beautiful.
After a day's travel, we were all very tired and fell asleep soon. But the next day, my brother and I woke up early. We went to the window and opened the curtains. We were immediately shocked by what we saw. The world outside the window has turned white. We were both very excited. We woke everyone up and dragged them to climb the mountain.
We walked slowly in the mountains, just before dawn. It's very quiet in this hazy Zhongshan, and you can only see a piece of whiteness along the way. After a while, the sun came out of the mountains. When the rising sun shed the first ray of sunshine, I suddenly found: rime! Under the sunshine, this crystal clear rime sparkles and is beautiful. Everyone was attracted by the beautiful figure of Snow Girl who arrived overnight. Look! She left a beautiful figure in pavilions, cedars, open spaces and lakes. Hey! Look! How wonderful the icicles on this pavilion are! There are long and short, uneven, different in thickness and shape. Everyone walks, watches and chats, lingering back and forth, relaxed and happy. Dad held the camera and pressed the shutter desperately, and grandpa also held the camera, not wanting to miss a beautiful scene. I quickly found a beautiful little tree, stood in front of it and asked my father to come and take pictures of me. I snapped this photo. A little girl in a red down jacket is standing in front of a tree and smiling at you!
This trip to Huangshan gave me an unexpected surprise, and I will keep this trip in mind.
3. Story writing about a photo
The story of a photo
On the table in my room, there is a photo in which three girls are laughing happily. Look! The tallest girl is me, and my eyes are narrowed with laughter. Behind us is a group of sculptures by Hong Haier. Whenever I see this photo, I will think of the day when I visited Guangzhou Museum.
It was a sunny weekend, and my aunt took my cousin and me to visit the Guangzhou Museum.
When I came to the gate of the museum, I saw a group of red sculptures of little boys on the water. They are tall and short, some stand, some stand upside down, some squat, some bend over, some cover their stomachs ... They are all naked, some tremble, and some cover their bodies shyly. They are lifelike, varied and very interesting. Just when we were very happy, my aunt suggested taking pictures for us, and a "crack" left us a good memory.
Then we go to the first floor to read books. There are so many books that I see things in a blur. I chose a book called The Story of Three Hundred and Sixty-Five Nights, in which there is a fierce hippo and a hateful queen. It's very beautiful and I'm fascinated by it. But because of the time, my aunt read a few stories and let us leave. If there is an opportunity in the future, I must finish reading this book. The story inside is really fascinating.
Then we went to the second floor. As soon as we set foot on the stairs, I was attracted by the beautiful music coming from that floor. There are more than ten kinds of musical instruments, and there are screens beside them. We can choose any music we want to listen to. Listen to the music and look at the pictures. The music inside is very nice. I listened and thought: how great and clever human beings are to create such amazing things! I will study hard now and invent more and better things for the world when I grow up!
Finally, we visited the exhibition halls on the fourth and fifth floors. After lunch, we went home happily.
4. The story in the photo or the moment of _ _ _ _ is 600 words.
The story in the photo
Brother, what do you two stand for?
Bao Xiao: "Brother, what do you two stand for?" . "Because sleep in class, and you? Because of what "? . "Because I don't sleep!" Different stages have different troubles! Life must be happy, or you will miss it and never find that happiness again. Experience is a kind of happiness! People are alive! It is a state!
This photo shows what you should do at any age. Expand yourself!
5. Story composition of photos
The story of a photo
Zhenxing rd primary school
week
A photo is an interesting story, and a photo is a beautiful memory. My family kept nearly 200 photos. These photos record my wonderful memories from birth to now.
One day, I was looking through the photo album. Turn, turn, suddenly, a photo caught my eye. Look, a lovely little girl is crying with her index finger up! At that time, I was only 4 years old and very naughty. That night, the power went out. It's past 9 o'clock, and I'm still playing hard. My mother came to urge me: "Didi, brush your teeth and go to bed!" " "I rubbed my dry eyes and said," No, I'm afraid it's cold under the covers! ""My mother hugged me and said, "I have installed a thermos." Didi, go to sleep first! ""oh! " I reluctantly walked into the bedroom. I put my hand into the bed first, ready to warm my hands with a thermos. Unexpectedly, my hand was burned. I cried with a "wow". My mother rushed in and saw tears all over my face. She said in distress situation: "Silly child, the thermos has just been installed, so you can't take it directly. "My mother blew me and told me seriously that the more I cried, the more it hurt. Aunt is debugging the camera, and the camera is facing me. She accidentally pressed the shutter and took this photo. ...
Whenever I think of this interesting story, I always want to laugh. This incident left me with very good memories.
6. The story composition in a photo is 700 words.
In my hazy mind, grandma will always be a silver line, and it is charming to smile with two curved lines. Father said grandma was beautiful when she was young. I believe my aunt is very beautiful. It is said that she is a copy of grandma. I don't have much emotional knowledge about my grandmother. There is only one old photo in my memory, and I can still capture her affectionate figure.
According to my parents, my grandmother is from Beijing. After she married her grandfather, she has been with him and has never left Beijing. Unexpectedly, grandpa died prematurely, leaving grandma alone.
In order to take care of my grandmother, my father went to Beijing several times and asked her to live with me. She refused to say anything. She can't let go of her home, a place full of feelings and tears.
It was not until I was born that my grandmother reluctantly left home and came to my parents to help my mother take care of the baby. According to my father, at that time, whenever I was free, my grandmother would stare at the north in a daze. My father knows that my grandmother is homesick, the old house that haunts her.
My father has been looking for an opportunity to take her back to my old house, but it backfired. When I was still learning English, my grandmother left this world with endless regrets. Whenever I mention it, my father's heart aches.
I remember when I was in fifth grade, I once talked about my grandmother. My father took out a photo. This is a photo of my parents and my grandmother, which is the only souvenir left by my grandmother.
In this four-inch black-and-white photo, grandma has silver hair and a beige coat, which may be the visual effect of the photo. There is no wrinkle on her white face, and her eyes seem to be smiling. Father said that grandma usually gives people the feeling that she is always smiling.
In the photo, grandma is sitting in front with a baby just born for more than 100 days in her arms. My parents said it was me, "ah! How can it be so ugly? " At first glance, I carefully looked at the doll in the photo. Although as white as grandma, I can hardly find any other advantages: the spoon at the front door is sewn with small eyes. I didn't know it was closed. My parents just said it was open. At that time, I quickly looked at myself in the mirror: although my nose is not straight and my eyes are not big, basically my nose is my nose and my eyes are my eyes. Open is never closed! I turned my face, looked at my mother and pointed to the photo: "Is that me in the photo? Are you kidding? " Mother was angry and happy: "you child, you were fat at that time!" " You see, that arm, segment by segment, is like a lotus root segment by segment. In addition to meat on the face, it is meat. There is no room for five senses. It's good to have seams. That means grandma raised you well! "
Well raised? I am a pie lip, so ugly!
But grandma held my ugly child with a loving face. At this time, I found a new problem: the people in the photo are sitting or not sitting, standing or not standing, grandma leans back, dad leans forward, and mom stands upright beside dad, but her hands are dragging the chair and there is no posture. Take a closer look, only I have the most feeling of taking pictures. You see, although I seem to be asleep, I am leisurely leaning in my grandmother's arms, exquisite and very angelic.
I studied the photos carefully, trying to find the answer from the details: how strange! As a father, he should not stand like this. My father is a man who pays great attention to details. He usually works methodically, carefully and never hesitates. Especially your manners and clothes. No matter what material it is, as long as it is worn on dad, it must be clean, lilisuosuo. I have seen many personal photos of my father when he was young. They are all dressed in handsome pens.
Suddenly, I suddenly understood and said to my parents with regret, "The photo studio is so irresponsible. Everyone took pictures before posing. Why don't they ask for a new photo? "
Mom smiled after listening: "I don't blame the photo studio, it's all to make you feel better." At that time, you were very fat, wrapped in a thick mattress in winter, and very bloated. Your grandmother was small and had short arms. She didn't dare to hug you hard, saying it would hurt you, but she was afraid of falling. "When my mother said this, I was deeply moved: I accepted such a high salary and still don't know anything! I really found the happiness of "I'm afraid to put it in my mouth, but I'm afraid to drop it in my hand". What a pity! At that time, I was still young and didn't know what care was. Suddenly, I envy this ugly child for no reason.
Mother continued to tell the scene as if it happened right in front of her eyes: "When taking pictures, in order to avoid" hugging "you, grandma dared not hug you again, but tried to make her arm ring bigger, so that her whole body became a reclining posture, with her back and back in a triangle and her center of gravity on the back of the chair. In order to keep the chair stable, your father had to press the chair hard with both hands to prevent the stool from tipping over. As a result, various postures appeared in the photo. ...
The story of the photo is over, and my words are over. But I tell you, it's strange that since I saw grandma's photo, grandma in my mind is no longer a title or a symbol. She filled my mind and became beautiful and familiar.
Author: Mu Hui Yu Fei
7. Write a composition with the story in the photo.
1On August 28th, 937, it was dark and the sun was covered by layers of dark clouds. However, Shanghai South Railway Station is still bustling, and people who are going to leave by train don't realize that a small group of fully armed Japanese soldiers are approaching the gate of the railway station. With submachine guns in their hands and bullet bags hanging around their waists, they quickly scanned the busy people around them with wolf-like eyes.
Suddenly, a commander-like man raised his submachine gun and shot at the noisy crowd. Several young people at the ticket gate were frightened by this sudden attack and immediately fell into a pool of blood. Those children who sit in front of the podium and have a rest and play, some of them are timid and have long been scared to cry; There are also some courageous people who fled in all directions. The whole railway station is shrouded in fear, and there is a murderous look in the air.
With the buzzing sound, several bow-tie fighters of different colors and shapes flew here. I saw them hovering over the railway station like fierce eagles, dropping several bombs and then flying away. Bombs fell into the south station like lightning, and the bustling south station an hour ago instantly turned into ruins.
A series of immature cries came from the ruins of the South Railway Station, and I saw a little boy sitting on the blood-spattered ground crying helplessly. He is in rags, his thin body supports his huge head, and he is obviously a poor child with malnutrition. He is a poor child and the luckiest one at the same time. When the enemy plane dropped the bomb, the young parents put the sleeping child under their bodies and provided him with a refuge with their lives. A few minutes later, a steel plate fell right on the couple. ...
When the child woke up, he could no longer find his parents among the unrecognizable bodies around him. The child may have realized that the person who loves him most has left him, and he doesn't know what else to do except cry. Ah! This is a baby about 1 year old. He was covered in blood, some wounds were covered with soot, and some wounds had suppurated. No wonder he cried so hard. When the enemy plane dropped the bomb, his parents pinned him down and provided him with shelter with their lives. How lucky he is, he is the only one who miraculously survived the explosion. Two days later, the unconscious child was rescued by the search and rescue team of the Soviet Embassy in China, and his parents were crushed to death.
At that time, the search and rescue captain told reporters: "In this case, there are really not many people who can be rescued in China." Now, the child is 70 years old and lives in Russia. The Japanese bombing of Shanghai South Railway Station left an indelible shadow on him. Here, I want to appeal to the world: "Save children, push the war into the abyss and bring peace with us."
8. How should I write the last paragraph of the story composition in the photo?
A photo, recording a story; A photo tells an experience; A photo evokes a memory; A photo, full of emotion. It is such a small and meaningful photo, an ordinary and extraordinary photo, which is worth collecting.
My favorite photo was taken on the first day of 200 1 year 1 month in the living room on the third floor of my new home. The photo clearly shows me sitting on the sofa with my cousin, grandparents and grandparents. I still have a big apple on the plate on the table in front of me. Every time I dig out this photo from the album, I still remember the story behind it.
It was the first day of the first month when I was two years old. My grandparents and my cousins, uncles and aunts came to my home. During the chat, my father asked me to take photos with my grandparents and cousins. Knowing where I was sitting, I hurried to find a reason for my father to accompany me to the fourth floor first.
Up to the fourth floor, my father asked me what I was going to do. I said to myself, "Why don't I sit in the middle?" "Because my cousin is the oldest of you three children, and you and my cousin are the grandchildren of grandparents, of course you should be next to them." Dad replied. "But grandma is so old. If others see her, will she laugh at me? " "You are wrong to think so," my father went on to educate me earnestly. "How can others laugh at you? Although grandma is old, she has gone through decades of hardships for the happiness of our family today. As the younger generation, we should respect and love her. No grandma, no dad, no dad, no you! " I suddenly realized that I had just made a mistake. If others see me sitting next to my grandmother in the photo, they will not make fun of me, but will think that I am a good boy who respects my elders and is full of love!
9. The story composition in the photo has 700 words in the first day.
The story in the photo opened the old photo album at home and the yellowed photo came into view.
That's a photo taken by my mother and uncle when they were children. The mother in the photo is about seven or eight years old, wearing a small cloth jacket with a square collar, a pair of trousers, holding the trunk and smiling brightly. It seems that she is going to climb the tree. And my uncle, carrying a big bamboo pole more than three meters long, doesn't know what to do. I don't know until I ask my mother that they will know enough shells. In those days, cicada slough was a good Chinese herbal medicine. Every summer vacation, the children of every family will get up early and go to the Woods in the village to find cicada shells with small baskets and long bamboo poles. My brothers and sisters climbed the tree to find the cicada's shell, while my brothers and sisters helped to pass the bamboo pole and pick up the cicada's shell, which was very tacit. Children often start early in the morning with dry food and don't go home until dark. At this time, their small basket is full of cicada shells, while the small basket with cover is full of cicadas that have not yet returned their shells.
After returning home, they washed and dried cicada shells every few days and sent them to the pharmacy in the town, so that the tuition fee for one year would be settled. When the harvest is good, the extra money can also buy some school supplies! Cicada, which is not fully hatched in a small basket, is another rare food for people. Every night when cicadas are hatched, children can't wait to wash the tender cicadas, clamoring for adults to put them in the pot and fry them, and then sprinkle some salt to eat delicious. There are even greedy children like cats. On the way to the pharmacy to sell cicadas, they secretly hide a few cicadas, fry them in the oil pan when adults are not paying attention to cooking, and then put them in their mouths to eat them with relish. Do you know what delicious food was for children at that time?
This yellowed black-and-white photo seems to have brought me into my mother's childhood, and let me share that wonderful and happy time with my mother!