2016/03/08 (Tue) 15:36
In the spring bloom in the field

When he was a heavy rain out all flowers, everywhere all is take the lost like bad purpose, huan flowers at this moment, no happy smile crazy, just feel lost my head down and no flower laugh at things, oneself in unconsciously when flower princess, passers-by eyes have no choice but to have voted for the world's most ugly flower flower. Huan flowers from everyday life, slowly the haggard face, one day, the breeze across, huan flowers falling in the earth, soul and who had laughed at the flower together. Flowers to language: the original is a kind of lose, be swayed by considerations of gain and loss, but this is good.

People of old, from a sea of memories, fishing with their own true happiness, imagine that why the butterfly fly but the sea, fine taste when the "tears flower remained silent, disorderly red flying swing" sad moments, time taken away youth, leaving only the little memories. Who penned but remember mood rolls, empty have this go to years.

Pear flower in April, spring, in April , cage ChunYang, one standing on the field stem, look to forget to go to, and a slice of orange, greeted us, let me this in the north of the southern people, a little curious, and some don't give up. What a simple name "rape",I do not know when to thank, only warm at this time. They are surrounded with each other to grow, live in the warm season, without the bitter experience less lonely like the grass on the cliff. Together, die together, happy to live in between life and death. They may be experiencing growth, there is no growth of enterprise, and wandering. Really admire them, and the living is a kind of state. Sleeping "gone with the wind, pian-pian dancing, whose silhouette is much longing heart float in the sky. Wide sleeve cloud, music of violin fingertips coagulation, clear water lotus off hubbub, originally the flower is the most happy.

2016/03/01 (Tue) 11:01
I can put my love for there fell




Along the way, I will be right there all left, just want to let the wheel pressure, deeply imprinted on the road, so that when I returned, to be picked up again. But I know I have already don't belong there, I will be tamed by the city, fall at its feet. I only wish time stop at this moment,also can seal up the people there to my love.

Once a year, and the tomb-sweeping day Beauty Mama. Distant relatives, with together, for our common ancestor. The car will I give back to the familiar village. And to my surprise, the square has become a three layer buildings in the old, the road is no longer the potholes. Quiet little village is now very busy in the past. But the mountains, the water there, the people there are still so, like my mood had changed for the village.

The four seasons samsara, time went by Holiday Inn Macau. Even if we always dream of flying away from, we still miss there.

Somehow, many years later, as long as I am no longer to touch, those beautiful time would have been caught between fingers kneading into powder, lingering in the memory of my already wet, thicken, forever seal thin in those days subtank plus.

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