November 26,2013 11:56

The flowers bloom.

Perhaps, the flowers bloom, is a kind of fate, no regrets, do not have to sigh. Too many things, not the fleeting time

Erosion, wash. World is too noisy, listening, is a luxury.

Perhaps, the truth of the SpeechlessTeny Wu, eventually settling for the silent. The more love, the more afraid to withstand a nirvana. Dust

Edge, always with too much pain, dare not touch, could not bear to touch. Perhaps, not to touch, so it won't be cold, still can

In order to have fine warmth has been slowly flowing water. Hovering between read and not read, the fleeting time gradually far, a late autumn shadow, as well as the former dryness, young frivolous in this season

The fall festival. Experienced, relieved, in the calm of ongoing vicissitudes. A lot of things, has already come, no matter how frustrated, have to silently

Bear. Most of the time, the fate of the world, like a beautiful dream, it will break. Travel time, amber is still a bay.

Perhaps, everything can not stay, not simply to retain. Not carnal thoughts, there will always be some pain. Love, abandon the attitude of mercy,

When there is no pain exists between two people, can be more resolute, more the number of. Don't try so hard, also there is no right or wrong.

AllSamsung Galaxy Note 3 Defender, will instantly go away, leaving only the lonely time, and those memories.

Memories light, still shining, at those lights will still smile. No matter there is no eyes follow, only wish for

That do not want to forget the yearning for that to stay, stay, stay for those warm...

A pen, thoughts with you. Time gradually far, are still. The two kind of warm at heart, fingers, do one thing under cover of another. When the

Light, will remember all. Remember a smile, remember fondly remember a leaf, a rice porridge thick, remember a word of the term

Warmth, remember on own heart scar. A lot of us, in fact, has nothing to do with the world, that is the heart of some thought, in the days verdant.

Flowers, flowersCCIBA, it is fate, is also the silent beauty. In the past, all the past, do not go back anymore, it is clear.

The world is noisy, listening is a luxury. No complaint, no trace, a worthy, ANN, warm, again.

Still life, watch, who can seize this season's busy? Who can explain this prosperous and desolation of subtle distance?

Underground shadow, secluded, beautiful and vast at two ends of life.

Ink permeates the attachment, distant love like stroking the cheek of the air. The watchman, silent. Company, not language. Perhaps, some people

Willing to listen to the heart is already enough warm, close to life, warm the heart. Care is not in depth, the quiet listening, trivial.

With, warm smile, is enough, is the world's most warm feelings.

Maybe not embrace, but feel the temperature of the mind, perhaps no words, all converge at silence. Perhaps, more is flat

Light companions, more can through the seasons. Perhaps, you have a recall, sure enough.

All, drifting further and further away, maybe we can do, only to cherish.

The total number of boundless thoughts, will come to an end, perhaps, is predestined fate. Not what you wanted, just belong to you.

The flowers bloom, the first time a song by singing.

Many years later, again, is not the past smoke? How many years of riverside, joy, how many melancholy. Listen to the time to sing,

At sunset, tenderness such. That touch of verdant spring, fencing sparsely finally ended Qiushui long days. In a relationship there, sometimes just like

A scarecrow, I unintentionally, that is due to have a broken heart desolate, a land of broken fleeting.

The affectionate seed, planted in the snow covered plateau, with throbbing and desire, out of a blossoming flower brilliant life, a life

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