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This is my old house. When I walk in the village, I can see the old building. I lived here when I was a child. It was not only a place to live in, but also a palace to play in. My friends and I often played in the basement. It was always exciting because the basement was so cool and dark. We hid a lot of toys there. In winter, snow fell and the roofs of my old house would become thick, and all the trees would become white. All the children were out of the houses to the big farms and threw snowballs to each other, running, shouting and laughing. There was a small river near the house. In spring, the trees would be green and the flowers red, yellow and white. My friends and I would go there to take pictures. In summer, we usually lay under the trees and saw people swimming in the river or catching fish there. It was so sweet. Now, the building is different. The windows are all broken. At that time, the walls were white and clean, but now, they are all covered with dirty marks. The water in the river is black, too. It is polluted. The river does not smell good. There are no fish there. The trees and flowers nearby are all dead. Nobody would like to go there. My old house has gone.