I can't help but want to copy the story of the picture book "One Inch Worm" here: One day, a hungry robin saw a one-inch worm, turquoise like a small emerald jewel, stopped on the branch. Just as it was about to eat it, an inch of worm said it would measure something, and the robin let it have its own tail, exactly five inches. The surprised robin carried an inch of insects everywhere to find other birds to measure, flamingos, toucans... Until one day, the nightingale encountered an inch of insects, and the nightingale wanted to measure its song - how to measure the song? Can't measure. Nightingale did not care, said not to measure the one inch of insect as early, so the nightingale began to sing, one inch of insect moved to measure. It measures, it measures, it measures... Inch by inch... Measure until you disappear into the dense grass—
<h1 class = "pgc-h-arrow-right" > there is the wisdom of the weak to solve the dilemma of survival in this story</h1>
It's a story that takes place in the grass, between birds and insects. We often look at the eagle flying in the sky with our heads held high, we often admire the lions and tigers in the forest with awe, and of course, we often lament the ruthlessness of survival of the fittest. However, in the quiet night, in the grass, weak insects are also trying to learn to live, and there are also struggles and games for survival. There are also the hunts of the powerful, but ultimately tolerant; here there is also the plight of the weak, but there is also wisdom.
<h1 class= "pgc-h-arrow-right" > there is a "poetic soul" of "simplicity and ease" in this story</h1>
Some people say that this is what ordinary life looks like, and everything is like a pure poem: green, pure and natural. The ending of the story is even more poetic: "The nightingale opens its mouth to sing, and an inch of insect moves." It measures, it measures, it measures... Inch by inch... Measure until it disappears into the dense grass - "Forget that this is an inch of insect solving the dilemma of survival, nor do I think that the little one is nervous and afraid in the face of such a danger, only to feel that in front of it is a beautiful picture: the nightingale sings, the melodious song, flying in the night, on the emerald grass leaves, an emerald-like insect crawling inch by inch, from the leaf surface to the back of the leaf, leaf by leaf, leaf by leaf, slowly disappearing into the dense grass ... Tomorrow, the song of the nightingale is still flying, an inch of insects is still weighing on another leaf, and there are still such rich and vivid days in the grass, year after year...
<h1 class= "pgc-h-arrow-right" > this story has a more beautiful educational significance</h1>
For some reason, I always like to read this story at the quietest time, and every time I visualize this picture in front of my eyes, I can't help but connect with another scene. The clear sunlight shines on the jagged roofs, the red cyan tiles glow warmly, the courtyards seem to grow in the spring light, and the birds sing crisply on the treetops in the distance. In the classroom, a group of children are reading aloud, the sun is sprinkled on the desk, sprinkled on the childish faces, a teacher, slowly pacing between the lines, a moment of prostrating on the shoulder of the child, a moment of quietly crawling on the desk of the child to talk... Outside the window, on the campus, the lilacs are blooming and the fragrance is pervasive; the dew on the blades of grass jumps into the sunlight, leaving only round marks.
It's a lesson! A lesson, a lesson, an article, an essay, a book, a book, a day, a day, a stubble student, a stubble student... The same ordinary and subtle days, the same beautiful and poetic life.
Here is poetry, here is the wisdom of growth. Calmly face the world like an inch of insects, measure life like an inch of insects, slowly, spread the greenery throughout the years, and then disappear in the years.
I forgot to say that this is a picture book, and the Japanese writer Tian Kunio believes that in the information age of losing leisure, the media that can really have the time and space to deeply touch the heart may be the best picture book. I don't dare to agree with this, maybe because we have been exposed to too many and too bad picture books, but this one, this one, undoubtedly touched my heart. For growth is a lifelong thing; and because, Hölderlin said, man should dwell poetically on the earth.