In the evening, the sun gradually converged, the pale pink clouds and orange clouds in the sky rendered the sky, bordering on the sea level, the sunset passed through the fingers, and it was kept on the ground, warm and calm, zero on both sides of the street There are several small buildings scattered all over, the color of the lacquered doors and walls, and the antique plaques are full of the characteristics of the shop. Only the street corner, the place where the sunset left golden traces Carton Of Cigarettes. There was an old man sitting peacefully, looking at the bustling crowd in the distance, the old pipe in his hand was spitting out the smoke ring, the smoke was hazy ... in front of him was a short table, an iron plate, a mouthful Iron pot on a simmer Cigarettes For Sale, a wooden stool, a bag of syrup, an iron spoon. I walked over and leaned down, I couldn't help feeling that this stall was a bit lonely. A smile appeared on the corner of the old man's mouth, and he slowly said, "What kind of sugar painting does the girl want?" The phoenix won my heart. "Just this little phoenix!" I smiled. The old man nodded slightly, a scoop of viscous syrup was drawn on the iron plate like flowing clouds, and the syrup criss-crossed the iron plate. Even the intricate and complicated patterns seemed to be lightly written in the old man's hands Newport Cigarettes Coupons, sometimes depicted in detail , Outlined a pair of flamboyant phoenix eyes, sometimes waved his arms chicly, phoenix wing Zhenyu sky, another outline, that phoenix completed. It's a neat and straightforward pen, but it's also elegant. In an instant a lifelike phoenix shines like a new fire. I was very surprised, and the admiration sprang up spontaneously. Taking over the sugar paintings in the hands of the old man, it seemed that the phoenix was about to leap out and walk away with a long cue. This is the real craftsman! How much hard work did you get for it! Taking a sip, it ��s really ��just get into the tongue, sweet into the heart.�� The pure ingenuity is like a mountain that does n��t melt snow all year round, deep and thick, gorgeous and simple, it is deeply burned in my heart ... It is a dusk, come here again. There are shops selling sugar paintings everywhere. I kept looking for the old man, walking forward, suddenly remembering something, and suddenly turned around, looking ridiculous. I walked every corner of the street, my fiery heart gradually cooled down. The sense of loss flooded my heart like a tide. Shops everywhere created signs of traditional culture, shouted, bamboo tubes were filled with sugar paintings, wrapped in layers of paper film, made by cold machines, I still bought one, tear the paper film The ice cube touched the tip of the tongue, sweet and greasy, and the astringent sweetness that overflowed with saccharin, numb my greasy taste buds. In the distance, crowded people seem to be looking forward to or loving them, scrambling to buy "traditional flavors," I can't help but melancholy, where are those real traditions? Why have they disappeared? What replaced them in the haze, the old man seemed to be sitting in front of the booth again, and the setting sun shone on his smiling face. I do n��t know when, he disappeared, he disappeared into the heat wave of the times, and he is gone forever, and the golden phoenix soaring in the sky seems to melt into a sweet wind, gone ... Under the golden light
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