The prose about eyes in grade three is about 800 words.

At night, it was quiet, even the cicada that cooed all summer had a rest.

Lying by the window, looking at the dazzling neon lights in the distance, watching the Mercedes-Benz cars chasing time, I feel a sense of silence. Quiet, independent of the edge of the secular, but can see the bustling bit by bit, obviously bustling downtown, but also feel the inner peace, is it that the world is drunk and I wake up alone? Is it the sublimation of the soul? I don't know, I don't want to know, just quietly enjoying the quiet, feeling, relaxed and natural.

Lights are flashing in the distance. Do students study at night? What a bright light is shining at the entrance of the building ahead. Who has set foot on the steps of going home? The smell of food wafts in, which is the warmth and affection of home. It is my familiar smell, mixed with care and yearning, and adjusted with love and attachment. What a wonderful feeling it is. This is a gift from nature, giving me a quiet life in the hustle and bustle.

Music is playing, which is a childhood memory. On this quiet and beautiful night, it brought me back to my dream, to the past and to my warm hometown. ...

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