Butter popcorn

The childhoods in the alley are happy, and people are playing together, eating together, without the iron door or the distance between them. It's hard to see a trader here, who goes home to his house with a sharpening stone and asks for a sharpening knife, who rides a bike with a fur and asks whether he wants to get his skin pelt, and, of course, who pushs the popcorn machine our favorite, who, like magic, can turn out with a “scrambling” and a “scrambling”. Unlike a bag of $4 now, the rice flowers are usually replaced with household rice, corn grain and a processing fee of $5 cents. When people see popcorn drink in their alleys, they rush out of their homes full of porcelain rice to reach their grandfather. All the kids are like me, with corn, a big bag of popcorn, and they're waiting. Each time, there was a long line, watching Grandpa roll round and round and round, shaking the black pot like a twilight, and then slowly rise up, and put his mouth on the head of the machine, and then the sound of a boom, and the popcorn of a white flower would appear. Despite the sound, everyone will be happy to cover their ears and await the next sound. At that time, I'd imagine I'd have one of these, and I'd make good popcorn at home every day. More than 20 years have passed, as if yesterday, the smell of childhood was mixed with the scenes and images that were moving away。