Life is only a few decades, but there are too many encounters. On that day, the sweet-scented osmanthus fragrance and the drizzle drizzled. I met him unexpectedly in the ancient alley, wavy my heart. It was the good season of Dangui Piaoxiang, and I accompanied my grandmother in the alleys of the old town Parliament Cigarettes. A glance at the old house in Grandma Hui's old town, then we walked aimlessly down the ancient alley. Suddenly I heard the faint osmanthus fragrance, it was mixed in the freshness of the misty day Wholesale Cigarettes, refreshing. We searched for incense, walked closer, and planted several osmanthus trees in front. Under the tree was a drunken gray-haired old man sitting on his side, busy with something in his hands. We approached and talked to him, seeing that he had a half-made umbrella in his hand. He raised his head slightly, but kept busy in his hands. "Little girl, do you know what this umbrella is?" He asked mysteriously. "Hmm ... I don't know." I thought for a while, but still didn't think of anything strange about this umbrella, but it was a bit like a flower umbrella for dancing, but the texture of the umbrella surface seemed different. He chuckled and sighed almost inaudibly: "Oh, young people now ... this is a paper umbrella." I was taken aback, thinking that the legendary oil-paper umbrella was just that, nothing seemed special. . He took my grandma and me to sit down, and gently fiddled with the umbrella in his hand, as if holding a baby. He held a bundle of thread in his hand and tied it round and round at the junction of the umbrella surface and the umbrella handle. The one who was quick but light-weight made a set of tricks in a short while. Hey, but the old man's hands are still busy, and he doesn't look up and says, "There are so many patterns in this line. They are tied sideways, sideways, sideways, and sideways. There are more patterns!" Porcelain plate on the side, add a little paint in it. Probably to draw a pattern, I think. But who knows, he stood up and picked a few laurel petals, so he made mysteriously shake in front of my eyes. I saw him put the petals into a porcelain plate and stir them with the paint. I asked, "What is it when you mix it? The color hasn't changed." The old man glanced at me and raised his voice like a child: "Scent!" After that, he went to work hard. After brushing twice, a peach blossom suddenly appeared on the "umbrella", and within a short while, a swallow seemed to be flying out of the umbrella. I was shocked by the scene and wanted to buy this umbrella. He said, "You and I have a fate, I'll give you a little." I smiled and couldn't say it Marlboro Cigarettes, he compromised: "Twenty yuan, my dad just made an umbrella. I have been selling twenty for so many years." Less? "" Yeah, this is a kind of culture originally. After so many years, how can you use money to balance the unexpected encounter with him? The old man's heritage of culture and indifference to interests make me forget. Hold an oil-paper umbrella, covering the leisurely years under the roof

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