Always been helpless smile ... ...

[2vt8c2p4]

nearly seven o'clock , and quietly in bed, it is not sleep . Hand to open the windows of the bed ,beats by dre, looking at the sky just about to dawn ,tods men, bored with their own memories of the past ... ...

he is not really a failure? I do not know the way to go would not really what you want ... ... I do not have any regrets? Sometimes I feel the dream is still a dream ,tods, do not every dream is the same in the end all will wake up ? Begins with confidence , and proceeded to a loss,dre beats, then next step is to live in dreams ,beats by dre, finally woke up again, with nothing ... ...

must be that they are useless at times ,tods shoes, but nothing 's useless ! Smile? Always been helpless smile ... ...

people live in the end are we going? In order to successfully become famous? Is to dream? So when I attained can do? next goal is to continue to find the next dream? Or ... ... what?

( Editor: end )

remember in my youth has left a sour footprint

静心诠释“女人心”

Are 90 languages ​​- Michong


We were driving along the road from Treguier to Kervanda. We passed at a smart trot between the hedges topping an earth wall on each side of the road; then at the foot of the steep ascent before Ploumar the horse dropped into a walk, and the driver jumped down heavily from the box. He flicked his whip and climbed the incline, stepping clumsily uphill by the side of the carriage, one hand on the footboard, his eyes on the ground. After a while he lifted his head, pointed up the road with the end of the whip, and said--
"The idiot!"
The sun was shining violently upon the undulating surface of the land. The rises were topped by clumps of meagre trees, with their branches showing high on the sky as if they had been perched upon stilts. The small fields, cut up by hedges and stone walls that zig-zagged over the slopes, lay in rectangular patches of vivid greens and yellows, resembling the unskilful daubs of a naive picture. And the landscape was divided in two by the white streak of a road stretching in long loops far away, like a river of dust crawling out of the hills on its way to the sea.
"Here he is," said the driver, again.
In the long grass bordering the road a face glided past the carriage at the level of the wheels as we drove slowly by. The imbecile face was red, and the bullet head with close-cropped hair seemed to lie alone, its chin in the dust. The body was lost in the bushes growing thick along the bottom of the deep ditch.