Old-fashioned bungalows are no match for spacious and bright new buildings, not to mention those luxury villas. But because the front is also a bungalow, my family and other people can enjoy the sun without any shade – warm and bright sunshine has almost become the only free luxury for our family.
One day, with the rumbling roar, the bungalow in front of it collapsed in front of the mighty locomotive, and then a brand new building grew. At this time, I did not realize that the buildings would affect me, but felt that the new buildings were also a scene. As the building continued to rise and grow, the world suddenly became a little different- it was clearly sunny, and there were clearly bright sun figures on the building in front of me, and my home could no longer receive the warmth and brightness of the sun normally - the sunlight that belonged to my family was deceived by the relatively tall buildings in front of me.
Since then, the sunshine that once pervaded everything has become a rare luxury for me.
I didn't have the ability to upgrade my bungalow to a building, and I didn't have the ability to pull out the buildings that blocked the sun, all I could do was to experience the taste of the sun in winter. Of course, the sun is not absolutely unsharmed, if I go out and run into the unobstructed wilderness, I will immediately be bathed in the sun, just in this "naked" way to enjoy the sun, while bearing the attack of the cold bullying north wind, the winter northern wilderness, the tyrannical cold can easily repel the soothing of the sun or freeze together.
I could imagine that at this moment when I missed and longed for the sun, there must have been some people in the building in front of me who were enjoying the sun to the fullest. For those in that building, the sun was so abundant and some ignored that I could only look up at the dark side of the tall, hard, cold building in front of me and reminisce about those sunny days—the memories of the sun had become my only luxury now.
Of course I don't blame the guys in that building, because he paid enough money. I wouldn't blame the building, it wasn't meant to be there. Even I wouldn't blame the builder, because he had the legal formalities and the legitimate reasons to be able to build those buildings. The sun is still the sun, the sun is still the sun, the sun is still the sun, she has the feeling of illuminating everything, but unfortunately there is no power to penetrate the reinforced concrete.
Blame yourself, and your own house.
Imagine if I were to swap with the people in the opposite building, would I be able to unleash some sympathy for the bullied bungalows at the back of the building? I'm afraid I don't even have time to pay attention to the humble old bungalows in the shadows downstairs—taking a step back, even if I notice occasionally, what can I do? I'm not sure I'll shake my head and easily drop a sentence: How are those bungalows in the back so short, oh, how can such a low house receive sunlight!
(The picture originates from the network thanks to the author, if there is infringement, please notify and delete it in time)
