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Chapter 3 Gene and Doris

232 views. 2022-4-10 12:27 |Individual Classification:Sol Symphony| novel, English

       All the birds were chattering and chirping. The weather was fine, always warm in spring. In our sphere, it is warm almost all year long. On a sunny slope, little seedlings are sprouting pale green, and morning glories were opening. In a valley, violets were blooming, spreading fragrance in the Attic. 

       I read Oxford picture books, and I always enjoyed reading it. I enjoyed the stories and I guessed some words in the picture. I pointed some words to Jerome and Jerome paraphrased the words for me in English. I read with great interest, at medium level. And I will read extensively. I flipped open Listen to this, a book for listening practice. I have listened to all the scripts in the book, laying firm foundation for English pronunciation. Now, English words are in my brain and I am deeply impressed of the sound of the language. When I read English picture books, all the words are familiar with me. In the future, I will consult English-English dictionary.

        In the morning, I read Latin textbook. I revised some words and grammar, then I did short reading. I wrote some Latin sentences on a slate. I read French books and wrote some French verbs on my slate. I read a French text book and translated a short verse in French. Language is the expression of thought. If I read original works, I can communicate my thoughts directly with the author. Each language is a window, and if I open the windows, I would see beautiful sceneries.

       Sunrays were streaming from a large arched mauve window. I wanted to play outside in the sunrays. Jerome nodded and smiled at me warmly, reminding me that physical power is the first quality of an ideal citizen. I was always poring into books. Now I let in some fresh air. I opened an oak door and bounced in fresh air. I wanted to practice flying, so that when I fly in a flock, I would become a leader. 

        I flew over several summits, exerting my strength. Then I perched on a sunny slope. Tiny flowers were spangling in thick clumps. Violets were blooming in clusters. I played about in delight. Fresh wind purred in the thick canopy of the oak. I enjoyed fresh breeze and warm sunrays in the thick canopy. I spread my whitish, feathery wings in sunrays. 

        Fresh wind blew in the thick canopy of the oak. I enjoyed fresh breeze and warm sunrays in the thick canopy. I stretched my wings and swung on a rattan at ease. At the moment, Gene and Doris fluttered in the tree, gurgling merrily. Gene looked about in curiosity. His eyes were twinkling with wonder, and he was wearing a pair of new winged shoes. His new shoes were caked with fresh mud, and his jacket and plump face was splattered with brook water. His hair looked rumpled and he was yawning. 

        Sol! Gene uttered. He turned in the air, and whirled all around. 
        At the moment, Doris fluttered in the tree, smiling at me. 

        Doris is a quiet little girl, her clear eyes glittering with wonder. Her silky, fairy hair was flowing in the breeze, and her bluish gown was rippling in the wind. She sat on a bough, dipping dew drops on her tiny fingers. Two pairs of tiny, transparent wings were fluttering at her back. I swung on a rattan with Doris. 

        I swung with Gene on the branches. And we glided among the boughs. Gene did turns, and I whirled on my perch. Doris looked at us in amazement, bouncing up, cheering, and clapping her hands. She shuffled on a twig, trying her steps. A lark was singing in the air. I whirled and swirled in the air, singing a melodious tune. Doris grew cheerful and tried her wings. Both of us hovered over the glade, calling out in high spirit.

      Gene flapped his sturdy wings on both shoes and turned in the air. Now we flew in a flock. Sail in clear blue arch over the greeneries. My brother Gene is the leader, orienting and shielding wind for us. I brought up the rear, flying swiftly. Little Doris was in the middle, my new playmate. 

      Ample pine cones towered on aged pines, cracking open and holding winged seeds. Ambers were glimmering in shades of green, the consolidated musing of the pines.

      I swung higher. 

     I mused on rays of time. Sail among trillions of streaming stars, in a future era. Lots of suns are glowing in space. If a new sun rises on a new planet, bright, warm rays would start a new era, as the new world start to evolve.

     I found a hollow tree dripping with honey. We shared golden, sweet honey combs. On a snowy slope, we found some juicy winterberries and crunched the fresh berries. 

        At dusk, golden sunrays glimmered in the woods. I weaved a wicker basket. As it evolves in early spring, I wanted to make collections in the woods and put whatever I found in my wicker basket. It was the first time I weaved a basket, and I was not quite familiar with the technique. With flexible fingers, I picked some pliable willow branches. I tried several times, and overlapped one branch crossly with another one. One horizontal, and one vertically. I knitted on and on, working with my fingers carefully. The wood was serene. When the first star emerged over Mount Atlas, I weaved a small wicker basket. 
I weaved two handles with firm branches, and connected them on the basket. I held my basket and whirled in the air, feeling delighted. I picked some acorns and pine cones, and threw them in their wicker baskets. Then I tasted some acorns. 

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