Dream of genius：Yung Chao 2011-04-24
I was a strange boy, was young, I was a genius, in addition to developing my genius, have no survival goals. As the ideal of childhood gradually faded, however, when I found my genius beyond the dreams of nothing. -
I can recite Tang poetry when he was three. I remember in a groggy State Qing long before old fogy rattan chair of Yin: "women don't know subjugating the hate, across the River sang ** flowers of Judah" watched his tears roll down. At the age of seven I wrote my first novel, a family tragedy. Stroke complicated Word is encountered, I often run to ask kitchen and how to write the words. Second novel is about a love suicide girls. My mother said: if she wants to commit suicide, she must be from Shanghai by train to the West Lake from drowning, but because the background of the West Lake poetry, finally to save this stubborn. -
I only extracurricular reading material is the journey to the West and a small amount of fairy tale, but my thoughts are not bound by them. The age of eight years, I tried a similar Houtaux novel, title of the happy village. Happy village is a warlike highland peoples, due to conquer Miao people active, Mongolian and Chinese emperor licence, exemption from taxes, and to the degree of autonomy. So happy village is an isolated family, self-employed from weaving, hold tribal times and lively culture. -
I've come to half a dozen exercises of thin seams together, expect a Yangyang sprang up, however I soon lost interest in this great theme. Now I'm still saving goals. I painted illustrations of many frames, this ideal of social services, construction, interior decoration, including the library, "Xyst", chocolate shop, roof gardens. Public dining room is a pavilion in the charge framed flower bed. I don't remember there are no cinemas and Socialist---although the products of these two civilizations are missing, they seem to have had a good
At the age of nine, I held back, not knowing should be select music or fine arts as the cause of my life. Read a description of poor artist after the movie, I cried, and decided to become a pianist, playing in the magnificent Concert Hall. -
For color, accent, words, I am extremely sensitive. When I play the piano, I imagine those eight notes have different personalities, wearing bright clothes dance hand in hand. I learn to write articles, strong color, rhyme and sonorous words for love, such as the "Pearl gray", "Twilight", "wonderful" sth Therefore make stuffing problems. Until now, I still love the Strange Tales of a Lonely Studio and vulgar Paris fashion report is aimed at such attractive terms. -
At school I get free development. My confidence growing stronger, until when I was 15 years old, my father came back from the field, would separate him for many years research, the son of a bit. -
"I regret ever care of typhoid fever in your care," he told me, I'd rather see you dead, you hate to see you alive suffering everywhere. ”-
I found that I will not cut the Apple. After hard work I will fill the socks. I'm afraid the Cook, afraid of jianke, try afraid of Laundry clothes. Many people try to teach me to Cook, but no success. ** Three years laying, asked where I lost I ** Street. All in all, in the reality of society, I mean a waste. -
My father gave me two years to learn to adapt to the environment. He taught me to cook the meat, washing with soap powder; practice road 4 position; see people of color; PostScript zips the light curtains; mirror research on facial expression if there is no genius humor, jokes don't say anything. -
In terms of interpersonal skills of common sense, I reveal the astonishing stupidity. My two-year plan is a failed experiment. In addition to I thought losing balance, painful warning didn't give me any of my father. -
The art of living, part I is not not a taste. I know what "held a specially clouds" Scottish Piper, rattan chair enjoying the breeze, eating salt water, enjoy the rainy night of neon lights, from the top double-deck buses stretch hand picked tree leaves. In the absence of transfer of people and occasions, I was glad of life. But I also can't overcome this worry little trouble, life is a gorgeous robe, crawls with fleas.
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