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Hungry daughter (8th Dec 22 at 1:34am UTC)
If he's not in my life again? If he is as indifferent to me as his teachers, classmates and neighbors? No, he won't be like those people. He appeared in my life, my heart should be full of gratitude, I think this is God's protection for me. At the beginning of this summer, the third brother, who liked to play with the radio, not only assembled and disassembled the radio himself, but also liked to help people repair it. One day, he repaired a small radio that others did not want and gave it to his father whose eyes were not good. I borrowed it from my father and listened to it for a long time in the middle of the night before I heard the radio station that my history teacher had mentioned. It was the first time I knew about the Bible. In it, a gentle voice said, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.." Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. These words were meant for me, or I wouldn't have been so excited with tears in my eyes. I fell in love with the Psalms and the Song of Songs on that night when I secretly listened to the short radio station. I don't care where this God comes from, as long as he can come into my heart, he can protect me. I was often laughed at when I crossed myself to the Bodhisattva in the temple and folded my hands to the cross. Some people accuse me of blasphemy, but I don't think there is anything wrong with it. 2 The radio reported that the largest flood peak of the Yangtze River in 26 years was pouring from the upper and middle reaches of the Yangtze River to the lower reaches. I remember another thing happened in September 1980,Grey Marble Slab, which was announced on the same day as the news. The draft amendment to the Marriage Law stipulates that the legal age of marriage is 22 for men and 20 for women. However, the Party advocates late marriage, and the combined age of men and women should be 50. If you marry according to the legal age, you will not go to court, and the competent authorities will punish you. Maybe I was born with undernutrition and stunted growth. When I was 18 years old, people still called me "little girl", and I didn't feel like an adult myself,white marble mosaic, although I would be legally married in two years. This "reiteration of the marriage law," which has made many people happy, has nothing to do with me. It seems that the matter of men and women is still too far away from me. There are only four pages in each newspaper, the ink and paper are inferior, and the fingers are always dirty. On a small street like Shiqiao Square, there are always wooden frames or glass shelves hanging out the newspapers of the day-People's Daily, Chongqing Daily and Guangming Daily. There are very few glass frames, because someone smashed them, not to steal newspapers, but to smash them for fun, just like smashing street lamps. At night, most places are dark, and only a few streets in Wildcat Creek can see street lamps, which shows that the young scoundrels in this area are the most suspected, Marble Projects ,Stone Honeycomb Panel, and they still have their own feelings. Even if every street lamp can be lit, most of the alleys on the South Bank have no street lamps and are set in darkness, which is not comparable to the bright city center. 3 History teachers pay more attention to newspapers than to what happens around them. He said that there were many writers and painters in the pavilions of Shanghai and the attics of Paris, and that a person's hardship was his wealth. He said, no matter how strong a person is, you can't be stronger than the world, and you can't occupy all the glory in the world. He also said that the waterfall had been there, unknown until the river showed it. I like what he said to me. I think these words are very profound and worthy of my admiration. These words must have been used by him when he was with his friends, and he was a completely different person when he said them in class. I couldn't help but think that he began to regard me as a friend and that I could understand his language. My interest in newspapers grew, and it was a window into the world outside my body, and I didn't even slip through the corners of the articles. At the end of the newspaper, there are often column advertisements for some large literary monthly magazines. One day I read an advertisement for the third issue of a literary magazine, Contemporary, a reportage, Winter Fairy Tales. The author is the younger sister of Yu Luoke, who insisted that "no matter what your origin, you should receive the same political treatment" and was shot during the Cultural Revolution. His sister wrote about his and her own misfortunes during those years. When I read the advertisement, I got the magazine from him. While reading, I copied a lot of paragraphs in my diary, which was very touching. When I returned to the magazine, I wanted to talk to him. As soon as I mentioned that Yu Luoke was only 27 years old when he was shot in 1970, he suddenly told me not to say any more. His tone was very rude, as if it had something to do with him.
I was puzzled by this unexpected behavior. When I talked to him about something else, he became normal, but extremely cold. After school that afternoon, I came out of his office and sat for a long time on the stone beside the school wall. Apart from me, I don't think any female students will go to him to talk about anything other than homework? In terms of appearance, he is no better than other male teachers. What's the big deal? Just because he knows how special I feel about him, he can treat me the way he wants. I am angry and sad, a timid person! I don't have to take him seriously, let alone pay attention to him. The bell of the evening self-study is ringing. It's his tutorial. Students review their lessons and ask the teacher if they have any questions. Sometimes, the teacher will explain a general problem again. Unlike other teachers, he always sits on the platform and goes to his desk to see who raises his hand. He also likes to sit in the back row, holding newspapers instead of handouts and textbooks. He often makes some simulated test questions, hands them out and lets the students do them. Answering the questions that night, the time passed faster than the recitation, and the two-hour time was over immediately. Taking advantage of the crowd, I slipped out of the classroom and walked on the path, but he caught up with me. Why are you walking so fast? He asked. Afraid of ghosts following. "Scolding me?" "How dare you?" You little brat. You're mad at me. He gripped the rolled newspaper with a deep sigh. "But I don't feel tired talking to you." As soon as he sighed, I ignored his determination, and the smoke immediately disappeared, and there was no breath to come out. But I'm still walking fast. What are you really afraid of? He suggested going through the school gate. Fine I agreed. It was late and the students were separated. I didn't have to walk around the school gate on purpose. That night, I was so close to him for the first time. It was near because there was no one else around. The moonlight shone on the sloping gravel road,Pietra Gray Marble, and the leaves rustled in the wind. We walked in silence, and when we reached the intersection where it should have diverged, I turned sideways and stopped to say goodbye to him.
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