Reminisce About Nostalgia with You

Everyone has their own recognized good places and beautiful scenery. What I recognize is the memory in my childhood heart, my hometown. Hometown is a big locust tree, its roots are tied to your heart. No matter how far you go or how high you fly, your heart is tied and held. You are the kite, and your hometown is the thread. Heaven is not old, love is hard to break, and the heart is like a net with thousands of knots in it. Hometown is a faded old photo, long-lost relatives, classmates, friends, familiar faces, scenery, objects, and gradually fading memories that nourish your heart and warm your feelings. Hometown is like a book. Turning through the pages, there are quaint old houses, black walls, old roads, wet moss, ancient wells and old trees, and morning glories climbing the walls. The years have sprinkled vicissitudes on the scenery, and the annual rings have aged the scenery.