Depiction：
Childhood dreams are always colorful, and the life as a child is
always carefree. That familiar old wall, patchy and mottled, the
old yard with overgrown weeds, where birds often flitted and
chirped. What unforgettable were peddlers wandering through
the streets, the distant and near calls-out of hawkers, and even
more unforgettable was the clouds of smoke from popping rice
swirling around. The old man's sturdy hands shook the pop-rice
machine, and the youngsters gathered around, eagerly waiting
for that sudden explosive boom. A large swath of pop-rice all
over the ground, fragrant and enticing. We can't hold on to the
time, neither can we revisit the dreams awaken at midnights,
but we would never forget the beauty of our childhood. After
experiencing the sweetness and bitterness of life, even though
we have waved goodbye to so much time merciless, however,
the stories of our childhood were deeply engraved in the
depths of our souls. The snow in spring melts away swiftly, yet
remaining as the most beautiful scenery. The deeply etched
memories of childhood, are always the exquisite wine we savor
throughout our lives.
