First the tune sounded, and then the piano filled the room like flowing water-it was the familiar "Anne's Wonderland". I gradually stopped writing and looked up. After waiting for a while, my thoughts seemed to flow away with the sound of the piano. ...
Five years ago, I, a girl who just graduated from the sixth grade, dragged a heavy box half a person's height and set foot on this strange land called my hometown alone. Besides being timid, I am also deeply puzzled. I don't understand why my parents insist on sending me back to school, why they just choose to stand by and say goodbye to me, but they don't personally send me to the car, even if they just help me put my luggage away; I don't want to think about their solemn words after a series of exhortations: "We are waiting for your triumph."
Looking at the endless stream of pedestrians and my uncle standing not far away, I want to run away. Tiny dust raised so that I couldn't see it, and then this weak and warm tune came from nowhere, and my eyes were covered with a layer of fog. Wonderland? This is just a cold and dark space.
In such a space, the warmth from parents also becomes distant and hazy. Living alone in my uncle's house, I gradually got used to not being urged to get up in the morning, to focusing on myself at the dinner table, to going out without hearing my mother's annoying nagging, to going home with my schoolbag at night and watching my shadow change from long to short under the street lamp, and then from short to long. ...
Leaving the seeds in the greenhouse, I slowly learned to be strong.
At first, many times, thin telephone lines and thick envelopes were hard to miss. How many nights, I was alone in my room, reciting and calculating, listening to my brother's laughter and aunt's loving reproach from outside, and quietly, my eyes were red again and again. However, there is always a sigh of relief in my heart. I can bloom without the help of others' shoulders. So I swallow my tears, cheer up, take root, paint and grow in this small space that belongs only to me.
The sound of the piano hovers in a circle, constantly deducing a piece of semi-static and semi-bright music. It seems that dew is dripping from every corner of the room and shining exquisitely in the light.
In the flickering light, I seem to see myself changing day by day. Don't cringe behind your parents, stick your head out to meet the sunshine; No longer earth-shattering for a little setback, calmly self-sustaining; I don't want to go home willfully anymore. I just woke up one afternoon and saw the sunny city outside the window, and I felt very warm here.
The last note continues until the last wave in the air disappears. I gradually came to my senses.
The hourglass of time has been reversed five times, and all the changes are witnessed here: a thick stack of round-trip tickets, a declaration of self-encouragement on the wall, and silent tears left by my pillow ... Looking at these, I feel inexplicably kind and moved-this is the space for my free growth.
Comments:
Starting from my real life, this paper well interprets the sentence that composition comes from life, which is easy to impress the reviewers. The integration of musical description and narrative content throughout the whole article also increases the poetic beauty of the article. The author's brushwork is sophisticated, his description is exquisite, his emotional context is clear and sensible, and his growth process and understanding of space are revealed between the lines.