When I was in high school, I lived in a sunnier town in the south. The whole city is full of flowing colors. Spring, the rice field has been surging to the roadside, the dark green, green lag people. Once the rice is ripe, it is more excessive. The rice can be sun-dried on the asphalt road, and the bike is passed, as if rolling over the golden Avenue. It is the turn of the hot pepper day, the road has become a veritable "red Square". As for the Phoenix Tree, not to mention, it has to act once a year in the "Tyrant Burning the City Record", which burns for ten miles. Compared with the red phoenix flowers in this city, the phoenix in other cities can only be regarded as a sickly pheasant. Too gorgeous, when I was a little numb to color. The city smells, and the sugar-cane fields are sweet castles! The sandy fields under the bridge seem to exist exclusively for growing watermelons. Mango trees bearing fruit are in every family's front and back yard responsible for testing good and bad children. Why pay for wild ginger flowers? What kind of coarse and cheap thing does not grow in a row next to any ditch? However, I was a somewhat melancholy child. Two bunk beds, we four sisters crammed into a five-ping room. What more could you ask for in a crowded family of nine? The courtyard is large, about a hundred square meters, tall olive trees falling fine white flowers, like broken snow. Olive when mature, students can get a little "acid" to taste, but I hate the acid, feel even teeth can Ji acid into powder. Doorways, gradually, I found a little living for their own my first upper space a name, called "taoyuan house", it certainly can not give a few younger sister know, otherwise, they would make a fuss, holding the belly laughs stagger, but as long as don't say, is everything, so I just very blackly cracked soil independent without authorization. Anyway, it's my precinct, and if I'm gonna call it the Land of Roses, what's anybody gonna do to me? Then, out of nowhere, in a bank, I got a monthly calendar with a picture of Monet on it. Of course, I didn't know who Monet was. I read Monet several times in English (I didn't understand French, of course) and found it very pleasant. It's so different from the greasy sun in the city where I live. Europe, what kind of place is that?

In those days, remote places were almost as far away as the moon. I went to get a frame fitted and hung the painting in my "Peach Land Residence", which consisted of only one tatami mat. I was filled with a sense of prudence and respect, as if I were suddenly linked to the civilized world. There was a famous painting hanging on my wall, and I felt that my upper bunk was obviously different from my sisters'. Their beds were just beds -- mine was a "garden of art" with famous paintings. It was the first picture I ever had, and for a long time after that it was the only picture I ever had. Monet, too, became the name I was most eager to explore at that stage. Later, when I saw his materials, it turned out to be "Impressionist painters". What is "Impressionist painters"? It seemed too difficult for middle school students in a small town in the south thirty years ago, but I was very satisfied. The calendar drawing in my eyes was really a good thing! Now that I think of it, I seem to understand something suddenly. The gray and blue part of it is very quiet and serene, as if only Europe could be so quiet. But beyond the blue, there was a light that seemed at once to catch and escape, so that the picture had the flickering quality of a firefly on a summer night.

The beauty of Oriental painting is in the lines, but to the helpless light, they have to use large gold to make up for, but the golden gorgeous, like Wen Tingyun's words in the "painting screen golden partridge". Japanese ALSO LOVES TO USE AUREATE APPLY TO WIPE SCREEN, BUT TOO FLOWERY THING, TOTAL UNAVOIDABLE FALL INTO ADORNMENT GOUT FINALLY. Once reduced to decoration, it is hard to avoid the suspicion of "stingy". Monet's light was the light of heaven, everyday, yet the great shocks of a long life, reminiscent of the simple proclamations of Genesis: "God said, Let there be light, and there was light." Yes, there was light, when the little girl, with only a quarter of the Cinderella of the bedroom, because a copy the picture, and how to have a century ago dawn or midday deep MuGuangHua, with distant fragrance of lotus pool and pool, she was developed to hang a picture a belongs to the "spheres of influence" of beauty, her world henceforth a shine without a world. Ah! I think I'm going to see Monet this spring. I'm going to go to the museum and thank him. More than 30 years later, I still remember how it felt to hammer the nails into the wall and hang the first picture for myself

When I was in high school, I lived in a sunnier town in the south. The whole city is full of flowing colors. Spring, the rice field has been surging to the roadside, the dark green, green lag people. Once the rice is ripe, it is more excessive. The rice can be sun-dried on the asphalt road, and the bike is passed, as if rolling over the golden Avenue. It is the turn of the hot pepper day, the road has become a veritable "red Square". As for the Phoenix Tree, not to mention, it has to act once a year in the "Tyrant Burning the City Record", which burns for ten miles. Compared with the red phoenix flowers in this city, the phoenix in other cities can only be regarded as a sickly pheasant. Too gorgeous, when I was a little numb to color. The city smells, and the sugar-cane fields are sweet castles! The sandy fields under the bridge seem to exist exclusively for growing watermelons. Mango trees bearing fruit are in every family's front and back yard responsible for testing good and bad children. Why pay for wild ginger flowers? What kind of coarse and cheap thing does not grow in a row next to any ditch? However, I was a somewhat melancholy child. Two bunk beds, we four sisters crammed into a five-ping room. What more could you ask for in a crowded family of nine? The courtyard is large, about a hundred square meters, tall olive trees falling fine white flowers, like broken snow. Olive when mature, students can get a little "acid" to taste, but I hate the acid, feel even teeth can Ji acid into powder. Doorways, gradually, I found a little living for their own my first upper space a name, called "taoyuan house", it certainly can not give a few younger sister know, otherwise, they would make a fuss, holding the belly laughs stagger, but as long as don't say, is everything, so I just very blackly cracked soil independent without authorization. Anyway, it's my precinct, and if I'm gonna call it the Land of Roses, what's anybody gonna do to me? Then, out of nowhere, in a bank, I got a monthly calendar with a picture of Monet on it. Of course, I didn't know who Monet was. I read Monet several times in English (I didn't understand French, of course) and found it very pleasant. It's so different from the greasy sun in the city where I live. Europe, what kind of place is that?

In those days, remote places were almost as far away as the moon. I went to get a frame fitted and hung the painting in my "Peach Land Residence", which consisted of only one tatami mat. I was filled with a sense of prudence and respect, as if I were suddenly linked to the civilized world. There was a famous painting hanging on my wall, and I felt that my upper bunk was obviously different from my sisters'. Their beds were just beds -- mine was a "garden of art" with famous paintings. It was the first picture I ever had, and for a long time after that it was the only picture I ever had. Monet, too, became the name I was most eager to explore at that stage. Later, when I saw his materials, it turned out to be "Impressionist painters". What is "Impressionist painters"? It seemed too difficult for middle school students in a small town in the south thirty years ago, but I was very satisfied. The calendar drawing in my eyes was really a good thing! Now that I think of it, I seem to understand something suddenly. The gray and blue part of it is very quiet and serene, as if only Europe could be so quiet. But beyond the blue, there was a light that seemed at once to catch and escape, so that the picture had the flickering quality of a firefly on a summer night.

The beauty of Oriental painting is in the lines, but to the helpless light, they have to use large gold to make up for, but the golden gorgeous, like Wen Tingyun's words in the "painting screen golden partridge". Japanese ALSO LOVES TO USE AUREATE APPLY TO WIPE SCREEN, BUT TOO FLOWERY THING, TOTAL UNAVOIDABLE FALL INTO ADORNMENT GOUT FINALLY. Once reduced to decoration, it is hard to avoid the suspicion of "stingy". Monet's light was the light of heaven, everyday, yet the great shocks of a long life, reminiscent of the simple proclamations of Genesis: "God said, Let there be light, and there was light." Yes, there was light, when the little girl, with only a quarter of the Cinderella of the bedroom, because a copy the picture, and how to have a century ago dawn or midday deep MuGuangHua, with distant fragrance of lotus pool and pool, she was developed to hang a picture a belongs to the "spheres of influence" of beauty, her world henceforth a shine without a world. Ah! I think I'm going to see Monet this spring. I'm going to go to the museum and thank him. More than 30 years later, I still remember how it felt to hammer the nails into the wall and hang the first picture for myself