[color=Red][b]Recently, I have kept reading “Out of Africa”, and there is some soft and placid sentiment which touches me deeply. This book is pervaded with the air of nostalgia, the reverence for the humanity and culture, the love of the local people and simple lifestyle. The author narrates her experience in Africa in a quiet and reminiscent manner, the mild and slow and emotional adventures mingled with the haunted nostalgia ,which transports me into a remote area, on the infertile land but a group of tough and passionate people instinctively love their lands, clings to their religions, never betrays the “holy” principle they hold as irrefutable decree . The author reminds me of the Sanmao, who has been venturing into the Sahara desert and enduring the hostile environment with his husband Hexi. I have ever dreamt of such life without restraint and rigorous and hypocritical moral discipline, I have ever dreamt of being the intrepid and gallant Amazonian, like Sanmao, like the Isak Dinesen who set for their dreaming landscape with steadfast soul and bright eyes. Troubadour, the gracious artist who is always on the road, singing, performing, with insatiable desire for their freedom and the absorption of the world scenery , whose image is always carved inside my heart, sometimes, I know everyone of us pines for something beyond our reach but only to admire and envy someone who is bold enough to try the mission as we see impossible. I cherish the dream of being a troubadour on the way as the same as I harbor the ardent dream of roaming in the utopia of literature. [/color][/b]
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