Homepage Forum The Diary The years are dying

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  • ylq
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    The years are dying, and the mood rises and falls with the passage of time. Some past events, some memories began to mottle. Memory slowly erodes the atrium. The spring season, getting warmer and more floral, once a diary, a favorite book is a world. In this world, let the thoughts fly, let the days fly, let the sun shine on the books, in the bottom of my heart, I feel that life is fascinating, simple and happy, a computer, a cup of coffee, is also a world. Whether it is the mood of the beat, or the smell of coffee, it is like the trace of life, with sensitive, poetic, shallow coffee, and the charm of the text once reminded someone, the bottom of my heart will be faint pain. Those memories, like the raindrops of spring, are in the heart. Although it has not yet begun Marlboro Red, it is over. But can’t forget the unforgettable love. In the locked diary, there are only mottled memories. I know that your smile, everything you are familiar with, I can’t collect, even if I don’t have the “Flowers” that I listen to Park Tree today Marlboro Lights, I suddenly feel a lot. Sitting in front of the computer, my thoughts can’t stop. I know that the fascinating sights are all in the past, and they are all those days. With the ups and downs of music, the mood is even more choppy, involuntarily tears. Really old, always want to remember, remember the things that have passed Cheap Cigarettes, and recall the people who have been with them. Those flowers are still open. Those people, still thinking about me like I think about you. The past has passed, only memories, friends, we can never go back, I understand the habit of coffee, I am used to remember alone. Knocking in front of the computer, facing it alone, you know. In the days when the cherry blossoms bloomed, in countless days, I remembered you, but I could only see the falling of the cherry blossoms, like a bustling and decisive performance, no longer repeated. Only hurt the sensitive heart. “Last year, today, in this door, the face of peach blossoms is red, people don’t know where to go, peach blossoms still laugh at the spring breeze.” Those flowers, at this moment, in a corner of the world, quietly open, but I am again Also can’t see. Those flowers are opened, and they are scattered in the distance of time. They are lost in the past of life. They can��t find them, and they can��t touch them. I have heard that the laughter is flying in the air. Those flowers, where are you now? This weekend, the birds outside the window are singing sweet songs, there are warm sunshine, there are also faint feelings, shallow memories, quietly thinking. The soft music in the whole room, resounding, warm and lingering thoughts reminded me of San Mao��s song: “Remember that I was young, you love to talk, I love to laugh, one time sitting side by side under the peach trees, the wind is in the forest The birds are calling, we don��t know how to fall asleep, and how much we know in our dreams.”<br/>Related articles:<br/> Newport Cigarettes
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