Hi everyone, I am (chỗ này điền tên của em vào nhé...) and today I will tell you about my hometown. I come from Hungyen which is a province in the North of Vietnam. There are not many buildings and constuctures here so the air is more fresh and clean than in the city. The weather is nice and it will comfort you and make you happy. The specialties of my hometown is Longan fruite. People in my country enjoy eating it so almost every houses grow them for selling. Everyone lives here take care of each others, they live like a big family. In the evening, people in a neighborhood always gather in the large yard and chatting toghether after a long day of work. I love my hometown and the people here so much and I think, it does not matter how far you can go but hometown is always a place where you can come back anytime you want.

In the field, the stork flew straight to the wing, each field was split like a chessboard. Ripe rice does not simultaneously turn. Each field matures only a few days apart. In the field, ripe golden rice is laden with picturesque grain; Ladies and sisters have sickle hands. Moments later, each stubble stubble stubble out on the dry, hardened mud, reserved like the ground of meat. stronger winds, making the remaining ripe rice area undulating and undulating. Where the birds of the crow flew from, were picking up the fallen grain around the stubble. the young buffalo gnawed at the edge of the newly harvested field, raised his head in bewilderment, and bent down to lick the green grass. The field breathed lightly in the afternoon breeze, the rice flames turned yellow like exposed to the wind and sun for quick ripening, waiting for the harvesters in the next few days. The sparrows jumped on the village roads, pecking rice on the remaining straw. In the afternoon, quickly descending on the quiet field, there was only the wind blowing and chatting with the rice tops and ditch banks.