That voice is evocative 800 compositions

On the way home, a white cloud appeared in front of me. Do you hear the breeze as it gently blows in your ears and carries the sound of small breaks? When the flowers and plants around me bent helplessly in the wind, I understood, and looked up at the gray sky, which was the sigh of the earth.

When the gust of wind blew into my mind, pushing the stagnant waves, it reminded me of something that had been forgotten.

It was a Saturday evening, and after my sketch class, I walked alone through a tunnel under the railroad near my house, where there were many people and cars, but sanitation workers rarely came to clean it. That's when I caught a glimpse of a tissue that had been discarded. It lay quietly in the dimly lit tunnel, white and blinding.

My attention was drawn to it, and my mind was tangled up like a thousand waves. Am I going to pick it up? Despite the noise of people and cars around me, I turned a deaf ear.

Should I pick it up and throw it in the trash? But what if it's covered in germs? I'd better leave it alone.

But don't underestimate this piece of paper, if everyone is like you, white pollution will sooner or later destroy this home we rely on for survival. But now I am carrying a heavy bag and a drawing box, and my tired body does not allow me to perform the seemingly simple but tiring action of bending over, picking up, and throwing away again. My heart was in a ...... of contradictionsThe result:

Such a long period of psychological struggle was condensed into only a few seconds: turning his head, turning back again, indifferently passing through the zone where ideas collided. I didn't look back, but behind me was the blinding white ...... in the dim tunnel

Looking back on it now, I regret it. I hated my selfishness and inertia. Today, you can see the same dazzling white color everywhere as it did that year, and the air pollution index is gradually rising every day.

Piles of household garbage are gradually devouring this originally beautiful planet. For a moment, I felt that I was a sinner, even more guilty than the litterer. Nowadays, few people can take the initiative to pick up the garbage, and indifference gradually erodes human nature, and at the same time does not dare to look up at the sky.

Do you hear the lamentation of the stakes when the chainsaw sizzles and people cut down the forest without restraint? When the hunter shoots the flying bird down the branch after a burst of gunshots, do you hear the trembling sound of the whirling feathers? Do you hear the cry of falling petals when people break the flowers that bloom on the branches?

When the development of the city gradually swallows up the green, the sky is no longer blue, the water is no longer clear, and then do you hear it?

Yes, I heard you. I stepped forward and bent down to pick up the white mass that was no longer dazzling.