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看过很多种烟雾,像棉花状的,像绵羊状的,红的,黄的,绿的,蓝的,各种各样美丽的烟雾,却唯独失了那份朦胧自然的美丽,失了那淡淡的独特的幽香。回忆就像炊烟的香味一般在心底弥散开来……故乡是南方一个普通的小村庄,有很多种满树的山岭,花木葳蕤,山是翡翠的绿。天还没亮,村子里的人大多早早起来生火做饭了,白色的烟从他们的烟囱里冒出来,飘到了山腰上,仿佛给山穿上了一条白裙子。这时,奶奶会喊我吃早饭,我便一溜烟地冲到厨房里去。
I have seen many kinds of smoke, like cotton-like, like sheep-like, red, yellow, green, blue, all kinds of beautiful smoke, but only lost the share of hazy natural beauty, lost That faint unique fragrance. Memories like the smell of smoke generally spread in my heart ... ... hometown is an ordinary southern village, there are many kinds of trees filled with mountains, flowers and trees, mountains are emerald green. The sky was still dark, and most of the people in the village got up and started cooking early. The white smoke came out of their chimneys and drifted to the mountainside as if wearing a white skirt to the mountain. At this time, my grandmother will call me to eat breakfast, I quickly rushed to the kitchen.