#Photography# #我要上头头# #生活小语# #original poetry# Written by Chen Xishan/Foreword Inscribing photos or paintings is a very elegant activity, and it is also very interesting. A hundred people can write a hundred different poems for the same picture, no matter how many people there ar

Written by Chen Xishan/Foreword on behalf of

Taking photos or drawings is a very elegant activity and also very interesting. A hundred people can write a hundred different poems for the same picture, no matter how many people there are, the pattern of cards changes more than playing mahjong, and this is its charm.

Question "Climb high and look far"

Text/Deng Guizhen

I know that I am ordinary and ugly, so I am free to follow my heart.

You pity the same kind and become pets, imprisoned in fine clothes and food cages.

Question "Looking up at the crescent boat and missing my hometown"

Text/Deng Guizhen

Looking up at the crescent boat and missing my hometown, there is no father or mother in the family.

I often recall my childhood happiness in my dreams, and wake up with tears in my eyes.

Title "Potted Plant"

Text/Deng Guizhen

A silhouette of paper enters the painting, with lush branches and leaves opening near the window.

What makes a freeze-frame shutter a masterpiece is not a matter of clever cutting with a knife.

title "Fantasy Symphony"

----Infectious epidemic lockdown

text/Deng Guizhen

is as virtual as illusion and dream, like clouds, fog and wind.

I hope that when I wake up, there will be heavy traffic again.

Question "The Autumn Colors Still Remain"

Text/Deng Guizhen

It is already cold and windy, and the autumn mood is thick here.

Although God has no intention, Mr. Xu is affectionate.

[Message from Zheng Keer]

Winter is a poetic season. The color of winter is like an oil painting, thick and understated, casual and natural, which often makes people stop, gaze and feel; the charm of winter is like a glass of mellow wine, which can only be slowly tasted, chewed and savored after all the pain has been experienced; the freehand brushwork of winter is like a melody, what you feel is coldness in the winter wind, melancholy in the winter rain, lightness, tranquility and inexplicable tranquility in the snow.