Grandmother to the ground along a child picking cotton, because the young, most of the time his grandmother in the defloration, I'm playing, play tired, lying on the edge of a farm, watching the clouds ridge.
At that time, the sky is to blue, clouds of white children was so.
I looked at the sky and white clouds, like sheep, while lying languidly in the blue sky, now like a big ball of cotton, white, white ground floor spread out! I remember a nursery rhyme: crooked little children on the ship, small boats pointed at both ends, I sit in a small boat. . . . . .
I suddenly have an impulse, the impulse to lie in the above! Little did I know it's just a mass of fog in the sky.
Later, as I grew older, erected a village not far from a chimney. A paper mill, a cement plant, there are ceramic factory. The chimney erected these young people have brought us excitement and hope. An "industrial revolution" changed the rural areas, and changed our lives, but also created a number of bosses.
Days gradually become hazy, as if unwilling eyes open all day in the sleepy too. If the sun were to launch hard, happy days are still gloomy.
I finally understand, not the cloud covered the sun, but these factories spit out the chimney smoke day and night, and that the chimney like the devil, polluting our skies all day.
My heart became anxious as the smoke up and relax without the kind of childhood, the kind of dream. That group of white clouds floating in the sky has become in the past with my childhood.
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