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It's miserable, you also want to write this essay, and I won't write it.
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I think games can write about life and history. I wrote about Qin Shi Huang, the battlefield is like a game, there is no eternal winner, its rule is survival of the fittest. Even if there is only one winner, but there are thousands of troops to fight for, we must move forward bravely. Wait a minute.
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I don't know, I can't help you.
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What, I want it too, so I'd better write it myself.
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Capture the traces of spring.
I ran out of the campus, stepped on the green grass, galloped all the way, couldn't hold back my excitement, and it can be described as "ecstatic with poems and books". What is joy? It's a bit of a joy to say, the teachers didn't give us homework for the first time, and checked the schoolbag, which seemed to be much lighter.
Yes! What should we do? I'm worried, but I can't let this "great time" be useless!
I thought about it, and a novel idea came to me – to capture the traces of spring. Not long ago, the teacher who came back from a business trip gave each of us a bookmark full of bookish and floral fragrance, looking at the spring "flower skirt", thinking of the spring rain and the spring breeze. Taking advantage of this wonderful time, I was ready to catch spring and solemnly walked out of the house to ......
I started capturing the colors of spring. Look up, oh! This spring turned out to be red!
I gently shook the "slender" torso of the little peach tree, and the peach blossoms fell to the ground, so beautiful! I quickly covered the petals and let the pollen fall into my hands. I was very tired, I turned my head sideways, wiped the sweat with my sleeve, and suddenly saw a blooming peony flower on the side, petite and cute, I lightly pulled down a petal, and wiped it on the palm of my hand, which was another color.
In this "flower basket", I seem to be given the vitality of life, busy among the clusters of flowers. My hands are colorful, and I run home with joy to let my joy be shared with others.
The sun went to illuminate somewhere else, and the moon went on to work. I was reluctant to let the traces of spring flow into the water, but I was glad that the smell of spring still remained in my hands. I don't know how other children who are immersed in happiness plan for this beautiful day, but I know that if there is no homework every day, I can not only capture the traces of spring, but also discover something beautiful and nostalgic, and even more.
An easy day is likely to create miracles and develop wisdom, and it is precisely because "it is shallow on paper" that "it is impossible to know that it must be done". At least now I understand one thing - spring is colorful, otherwise how can "thousands of purples and thousands of reds are always spring"?
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Fun Games This afternoon, the teacher organized our students in the Giant Composition Class to make a game called "Doing Something Right". When the teacher said this name, the students in the class immediately began to discuss: "What?
Do you want to go against the teacher? Who dares to do this! The teacher quickly said the rules of the game:
'Doing it' is actually the teacher saying an action, and the students should immediately make the opposite action, and if they make a mistake, they will be punished. The students all stared at the teacher expectantly. Just listen to the teacher's order:
Raise your left hand! The classmates shook their feet and raised their right hands. Then the teacher said:
The students are all seated. Most of the students stood up, and a small number of students did not react and were helplessly sent off. The teacher saw that most of our students were very clever, so he said:
I'm going to have a hard time! Touch your right ear with your left hand and your left thigh with your right hand. At this time, many students began to scramble and mess around, and the students who did the wrong thing walked away with a smile.
The laughter in the classroom immediately stopped, and some of the students began to have sad faces, some of them had painful facial expressions, and some even cried bitterly, at this time, the teacher suddenly said loudly, "You are so sad, just cry out loud." Unexpectedly, the students reacted quite quickly, and the classroom immediately burst into laughter, some pursed their lips and smiled, some laughed loudly, and some laughed back and forth, laughing in the classroom one after another, of course, a few students who did not do it right were eliminated.
Then, what the teacher asked us to do became more and more difficult, and the number of students who did it wrong increased, and we had no choice but to reluctantly accept the "punishment" - the end. In the end, there were only six people left, and I was among them. The teacher then set up several more traps, but they failed to stump us, and finally the teacher announced:
Today, these six students won this game! The classroom burst into applause, and the six of us were very happy. Today this game has given me a lot of gain:
A little game not only makes people feel happy and make friends, but also exercises our reflexes and resilience. I love this game because it's so much fun.
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Write about how you play Moore Manor.
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Speechless, you can't write this practice?
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The topic is self-proposed.
It was a simple game, but it stuck with me!
I vividly remember that summer, the cicadas, still stubbornly chirping, and the weather was so hot. There's an unsettling smell in the air!
The teacher asked us to write down the names of six of our favorite people on a piece of paper, which sounded simple, but I lingered in front of each name. Is that him? Is that her?
At the urging of the teacher, I seemed to have no choice but to write down the five words I was most familiar with—father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, grandmother, and grandfather.
Cross out a name, kids, it means he never existed. "What usually sounds like a cordial voice, but now it sounds as hard as iron.
When my pen rests on the names, the scene rushes to my heart like a tidal wave. If it's crossed, it doesn't exist? So all the happy memories in my heart are gone?
I wanted to cry, my pen fell, like a cruel knife cut my hand, he was merciless, the knife fell. I crossed out my grandfather's name. The moment I put down the pen, my heart trembled again, and my grandfather's kind face appeared in front of me. . .
Now, let's paddle one! The teacher's voice rang out in a relentless sound.
No, don't! Now I realize that everyone around me is so important to me, I can't live without you! The tip of the pen, walking in front of the names one by one, tears, I don't know when, crawled all over the face.
In the classroom, there was silence. I cried quietly. Chose grandma.
The moment I put pen to paper, I felt like I had returned to my grandmother's warm embrace...
Tears flowed into my mouth, salty, and my heart suddenly felt a pang of grief.
No one is going on, no one is daring to go on. Me too, I'm afraid of losing. When I crossed out these names, it was as if I crossed out my happiness, crossed out my love, crossed out a part of my life.
In the classroom, there was a terrible silence, but the teacher's relentless voice continued: "Don't stop, this is what you must face!" ”
Yes, we have been in this game since birth, and sooner or later we will have to face the loss of our loved ones. But at this point, I was in tears and no longer put pen to paper. I want to cherish every word that exists, just like every loved one they represent!
Just after the Spring Festival, you can still see the flaming red lanterns and the fragments of firecrackers scattered on the ground, and there seems to be a remnant of the smell of the New Year. But I couldn't help but sigh in my heart: "New Year, but that's it." ” >>>More
I have experienced many things, some of which are very ordinary, while others have taken root in my heart and made me. >>>More
The memory of the calendar The sigh of man.
The white calendar is nailed to the wall, quietly, like a marginal person. All the experiences that flowed through his eyes precipitated until his memory was blurred. >>>More
Rain Alley. Holding an oil-paper umbrella, wandering alone in the long, long, lonely rainy alley, I hope to meet a girl like a lilac with a grievance. She has the color of lilacs, the fragrance of lilacs, the sorrow of lilacs, grieving in the rain, complaining and wandering; She wandered in this lonely rainy alley, holding an oil-paper umbrella, like me, silently (chì chù) like me, cold, desolate, and melancholy. >>>More
Please refer to the Jackie Chan movie "Who Am I".