That field of rapeseed flowers

It's probably this season, that golden canola field occasionally flashes in front of my eyes.

Perhaps it's really difficult not to be nostalgic at a certain period of time, perhaps the joy the world brings suddenly turns into despair at a certain period of time, perhaps it's just a sudden hatred for one's own numbness towards this colorful world.

The blurriest pixels are the clearest, the lost photos are the most profound. That time, the well-deserved spring outing and the bicycle ride following the small Hong River, passing through several small villages, the bright sunlight illuminated the village of childhood.

Time does not fade a bit due to the value of the recording medium, in fact, people always make cheap recording media more valuable.

Both sides of the river are always dominated by canola flowers. I have never explored the pros and cons of planting in agriculture. I just feel that if wheat, corn, or soybeans were planted here, no matter what is planted, it would remove the color from this painting.

Nature knows how to paint, and the most natural painting is the most natural.

The few photos of mine in my mother's phone are a natural counterexample. Several trips back and forth, it turned out to be a waste of this intoxicating gold.

Speaking of this gold, golden, it is even more unique. It is not as vulgar as the color of gold, nor as dazzling as the gold of the scorching sun. It does not create ripples in the water, it is still the dance of green and gold. The golden color of life always carries vitality, and the hardworking flower pickers are like fireflies in the daylight, igniting flickering lights.

My mother knows how to take photos, or rather, she understands nature. After a few stiff photos, a photo of me walking out of the flowers is proof.

With a childish little head, a poor canola flower is clamped between the two ears, squeezed in the flowers, occasionally rubbing off a few petals, falling like fish scales. This is a moving photo. When you look at it, you will know that in the next second, I will come to you to see the taken photos.

Obtaining a satisfying photo without composing is natural, remembering when lost is natural. One day, forgetting but having a sudden inspiration is probably also natural.

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