The warmth in the bleak street, how to write the essay The warmth in the bleak street !! I m in a h

I don't understand the landlord's problem.

The warmth of the bleak street.

The way home was still so empty, and it was still so quiet. Walking alone in the dark alleys, waiting as usual, longing for a light that would soothe my fear of darkness even if it was like a meteor creeping across the sky. Eventually, I didn't have time to wait for it; Eventually, I was ...... helpless

It's been a long time since anyone left this alley," said a classmate who walked with me. Although there are people living here, the neighbors do not communicate with each other, which makes this alley desolate. The sun had gone west, and the whole sky had turned a dazzling golden yellow.

Here, the doors of every house are closed, and they are locked, as if they are afraid of others entering. I began to panic in my heart, after all, this street has been gone for a long time, and the people here do not speak, and we do not see singing and laughing on this street, but only this endless desolation. However, after this incident, I did not do so.

As usual, we still walked down the same alley when we got home from school. The originally clear sky suddenly became overcast, and after a while, dark clouds were overcast. "It's going to rain, let's go!

Said to my classmates. Before I could react, she pulled me and ran. But we can't outrun Yunna.

Whoa—it's going down. We ran out of breath. At this moment, a voice stopped us, and at first we thought it was not us who was calling, but an aunt was calling us.

He ran towards us with this umbrella, and we didn't know what he was going to do, and our hearts were beating. Unexpectedly, he gave us the umbrella in his hand and said to us, "It's raining heavily, don't get your umbrella drenched." With that, he smiled at us and left.

I don't understand why he did it, but my heart is still warm. After this incident, I felt that the street was no longer desolate. Every time I walk down this street from school, I have an indescribable feeling in my heart.

Is it happiness? Or is it warm? In short, it is a special taste, but it makes me have a lot of aftertaste......

The warmth of the bleak street.

It's already late autumn, and there is a cool breeze in the autumn night. Looking at the sky, the night sky like black silk faintly outlines the outline of the moon. I breathed into the palm of my hand and walked towards the lake.

The moonlight shattered the ground, waded through the dew, and I walked slowly on the cold concrete floor, letting the dim streetlights stretch my shadow long, long. Somehow, another biting autumn wind blew and cut my face like a sharp knife. I subconsciously wrapped my clothes tightly and couldn't help blurting out, "It's so cold!"

I looked around, and it was all night, boundless night, and the night seemed to swallow everything. Looking at the faint street lamp ahead, I hesitated for a moment and continued walking.

It was late at night, and I was the only one strolling through the cold streets, and the road ahead seemed to have no end in sight. Getting lost in the dim street lamps and lingering on the cold streets is a manifestation of inner confusion or a boredom of the world.

I sighed, this bleak street is like this bleak world, and the people in this world are lonely and helpless. I walked slowly on the other self on the ground, and perhaps only then would I gradually forget my troubles and forget myself.

Suddenly, I stumbled for a moment, and it turned out that the laces were scattered. I bent down and patiently tied it, and I suddenly remembered the time when my mother and father encouraged me after a fall. Then the kind and gentle face of my mother gradually appeared in my mind, and my father's earnest teachings seemed to still linger in my ears.

Oh! I still have a home, I am not alone, I can't help but feel a little warm when I think of home. Although the cold wind is biting, the warmth of the family can melt the iceberg. I have learned that home is always a pure land that I can rest and rely on, and a haven from the wind.

Instead of being confused, I turned around and ran home. Because I know that the warm yellow light of my home is my calling that reverberates in the depths of my soul.

First describe the cold of the street, then write about your own predicament, and then write about the help that others give you to make you feel the warmth of people's hearts. This line of thinking is universally applicable.

Write by hand, Are you cultivating a new one?

Let's make up a cliché story: It's cold in the early autumn morning, but the cleaners come out early to sweep the streets, 5 o'clock. He was followed by his granddaughter, with two pigtails, who helped him pick up bottles and garbage.

This kind of composition is really difficult for students who only have homework and games on the weekend. It's generally just an editor... The warmth of the bleak street, first of all, made me think of the little girl who sells matches, in order to be close to life, you can write about the breakfast shop...

Warmth must be warm, how to write warmth. To give a few examples, the old man buys soy milk for his wife, and the boss sets a few more bags for this; Although everyone is in a hurry to get to work in the morning, everyone still lines up (add a little character description); In the end, after everyone left, the boss cleaned up and sold a few leftover meat buns to the stray dogs on the side of the trash can. Such an article with a routine is OK, remember to point a question at the beginning and end.