Wei Liang world first began to think of you
572
the wrong time. The distance between who and whom, enterprises and light years? A light in the distance, is how far? I can see your presence? Unconventional time, unconventional world, unconventional people. I faint smile. Noisy world, the messy landscape, I slowly close my eyes, memories of times of the mottled memory.
will look at the sky. Lonely sky, blue bit sick. Skip clouds occasionally float, such as the elusive soul. I wore canvas shoes, light green, light green canvas carrying bag, slowly walking in the street. Some of the pure green bag and shoes, Chi-test with the sun. Hanjin Jin's dress, clean, short hair, was the wind Gone with the Wind very high,
nike mercurial, faint scent, a little bit from the spread between the hairline. Through the gap between the sun and the leaves, I saw the sun's mark.
headphones placed Xu Song of Songs. A touch of sadness. Suddenly very like this song. A kind of very light very light bitterness and unspeakable frustration. I'm sorry I now appreciate the song level. After all, not so much experience.
the day to stroll the site. Suddenly saw a Jieao uninhibited flowers. Friends say my name and it took about the same. Ah, dandelion. The memory of the dandelion is quiet, always in the green flowers in the corner quietly waiting for something, or is dispersed by the wind, and then wandering,
dre beats, wandering. Keep quiet is so quiet. Law-abiding dandelion floating in the sky so until the day finally tired of floating want to stop, you want to stay in a fairly comfortable place. Yet still when it wants to stay, the wind but put it away, never stay in it .. maybe this is the fate of short-term fate. It is said that dandelion florid, can not stop love,
mercurial vapor, pathos and sadness. www.anmi614.com/ganwu/aiqingganwu.php?id=11784
Loving the three memories. My eyes open, days if empty blue. Suddenly very sad to think, a big crowd, maybe he was just supporting the story.
When I was a kid, I remember seeing was the story of Snow White, everyone fell in love with Snow White, but only me alone, but why fall in love with the witch. This is very scary, yes. Cui Qing Xiao
flute, that life is not accompanied by morning; notes the ups and downs, how can any human society, the Iraqi people?
This is the first poem, in the end who's sad to read? World is big, I was very small, we green the years, a touch of good stories, good story, there is always an unknown end. World is big, I do not know where you are. I can not find a big you. Huddled in the corner bringing back memories of the sky, crying softly.
books at a small turn, happened to read a small four-sentence, the usual sad mood. Wind from the broken flower-like fleeting, and you shake shaking smile, the way my life has become the most beautiful embellishment, watched the sky, the snow, watching the season deep shadow. Separation of those who have never said this person had already scattered in the End of the World.
Baidu's music, like adding a new channel. Accidental click on that day, which is very messy order of the impact of the songs on my eardrum. There are strong songs, a very sad song, belong to the 90 songs. The lack of patience, quick clicking the, eyes flashed a person's name - mika. Inexplicable feeling that excitement and want to click again to go back, but not find out how. A lot of things, missed, really missed, missed, really no way to avert. That made a test subject is asked: I miss you, but I miss you.. A variety of options. I thought for a long time, and then click on an answer,
beats by dre, I want you, but have missed you. Good grief sentence. In fact, there are many explanations, many people feel that change the taste too, like
off all the sites, went to the window. Window, the moonlight into practice. The moon shines on the lake, the reflection in the lake's shadow, as if not only the moon ah. Naturally thought of you,
mercurial, without any warning. In fact, normal. You remember in all my years starting Recently, the presence of light, gentle clamor. There is hope that you forever in my life. Not sure if you will promise me this unexpected request, but still look forward to your answer.
Train delays
我的世界一片寂静
until dawn the next morning I'll come and meet you
The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.