Sorrow makes it settle

I am a spectator of a river. I have witnessed its decline and prosperity.

As I grew up, I kept busy with all kinds of things in the adult world, and then the river became farther and farther away, and then the hometown became farther and farther away.

With regard to fishing and some of the pleasures of childhood, they are like a neglected business, unwittingly abandoned. When I looked again, they had disappeared.

Today is not yesterday. Today’s rivers have changed a lot.

When we came home this year, a number of factories were built in the upper reaches of the river, and the sewage was all lined up in the river. In just a few years, the clear water of the river had become dark brown, dirty, dirty, uncomfortable, and totally different.

Fewer and fewer fish and shrimps, and even some fish have disappeared. The trees on the river banks were cut down and sold for money. The heap of the river embankment was opened in large quantities and taken to a depression.

Sorrow makes it settle. A flowing river loses its original luster, like a dead life, without vitality. In the future, if I tell my child that this river has been rolling and magnificent, I think he will not believe it.

A long stone bridge on the river was also demolished. The reason for the demolition was that someone had come to inspect the bridge and realized that the bridge had been built by the villagers. They thought the quality was not up to the standard and the bridge had no safety guarantee.

Well, since I remember, there has been a small stone bridge, I do not know how many years of small stone bridge, leaving the humanistic mood of the small stone bridge was demolished.