"Water =" is another clear cry. It dragged the soft voice of Wu Nong, as if it had been fished out of the water. Now there are few young girls selling Hong Ling in the street, but from these middle-aged women wearing floral bibs, it seems that they have vaguely felt the charming amorous feelings of water girls. "People are like the moon, their wrists are frozen with frost and snow", perhaps more like an ink painting, where light ink and heavy color are always appropriate. If you weigh a catty of water-red water chestnut and peel off the entrance, it seems that you have sucked up the milk of the earth at once, and your memory will always be fixed by the bridge.
There is an essential difference between hawking in the south of the Yangtze River and hawking in the north, and it is not so rude and enthusiastic. Like Tang poetry, graceful and restrained, like spring rain hitting long windows, more like weeping willows blowing in front of the hall. Let your body and mind flow like running water, as if listening to a long-cavity Kunqu opera, and slowly walk to her side in your unguarded thoughts. Maybe you don't fully understand it yourself. The money has been taken out of your pocket.
Hawking's sound energy in Jiangnan opens the dusty thoughts of the old man and returns to his jumping childhood. Maybe one day after school, "stir-fry ginkgo, fragrant and waxy, and buy three for one copper coin." A copper coin in his pocket was exchanged for three hot ginkgo fruits, and the remaining one removed the middle fruit and became a loud fruit whistle. It seems that the whistle is still there, the temples are gray and there is a sigh. How many things can be done again?
Jiangnan's hawking is subtle and tolerant. Garlic in the north is required to grow thick and big, with a crisp bite wrapped in a cake, and shallots in the south are required to grow thin and thin, and the glistening beard is not messy. Like My Fair Lady, more like Little Jasper. When selling onions, I always forget to add a word "Xiang" to them. Although these are the works of old women, I have a long voice when selling onions. Maybe just give her a sweet word. Walking on the smooth bluestone road, you can't help looking back at the dripping eaves.
It is not easy to read a book, nor is it easy to read a small town in the south of the Yangtze River. As the saying goes, when in Rome, do as the Romans do, so we should start by listening to the hawking in the town! The autumn wind is blowing, and it is the time when chrysanthemums and crabs are fat. On the high stone arch bridge, there are hairy crabs bubbling in plastic pots. "Clear water hairy crabs should be cut?" What an exciting voice. There is a poem that says: clear water produces hibiscus, which is naturally carved. Clear water gives birth to hibiscus, while silt gives birth to no dye. Today, this "armored general" who runs rampant in the river branches is deeply branded with culture in this ancient land of Jiangnan. It seems that the crab's claws have become gentle with this shout.
"Gardenia jasmine." The sound of hawking made the quiet town lively. This eternal voice came down from my grandfather's accent and will come down from my grandson's mouth.