peach that women are called to wait in endless grind for dust scattered into the mud

photographed I live in the southern city, the sunset every day. Twilight sky, some are friends I do not grumble malnutrition looks black, twilight volts to one side, fragmented bone disease bleak, but you joked that God is a God out of print art! A picture of my messy look at these angles, the picture is more confusing sunset sunset. Some shy hidden petals open, just like an empty lantern, precipitation sunset yellow, sticky, rich, as every time a weak Zhangdeng fire, full of dissolved to give full size image of cool, melancholy, beautiful, dignified atmosphere . Today, the more I love the sunset, perhaps have learned to bury the secret of the tree hole is so forbear, upright, and scars hidden in the dark in old age and exposure to sunlight than to make people more comfort. Palm clouds, breath, such as blue, the flower of youth is a long cry hysterically, after the passage of time collapse is bound to usher in a long dark, like a spring ready to go a whole pear in the late bloom of the summer solstice flowers, to reveal the empty weak. Pear leaves sunset passionate grief, self-pour the discretion Lengnuanzizhi. In the south of Nan Nannan ... ... leaves the heart if it is not love, it is not a lot of things we should have ended, you said. Whistling whistle sounded, the train flashed by in front of hula, buttressed Poguanposhuai cold, tolerate the slightest resistance, have been paying in the end, memories grow into a casual skimming over the surface. You said you where the aircraft flying very low very low, always at your fingertips the way, and I live on this side, also very close from the train close, close to the strong airflow through the palm as black, in the sense that the desire to set off a clean sweep the corners, almost to death under the seductive atmosphere of the ring worn as coffee intake like soul, I opened and closed nearly to the twinkling of an eye, you can quickly flies from one side surface of the window to peep not the same face. Because of the speed, are grotesque deformity was distorted. EDVARDMUNCH look just like the painting Whistle often heard at night, punctured the night sky full of secret equipment, train station next to the wasteland, humilis swing rolling Dance Macabre, I like a poem: I am not owned by people just passing through. Some more fireworks than the airport train station gas, coming and going of the South-North-North, I take Yi Tangtang I always will be leading the north passing trains on parallel tracks knockout irregular bang when the bang when, as steady, and as Sui Suinian you read, Ruqirusu. Dwelling without passing through to see their own region, in addition to capture a burst of aggression and complacency, leaving only the feel, hatred of being wrong, not to a place called the distance, go back where ever called home. I love that people do not pay, I suddenly think you are, you know? I am now living in the north, south of Nan Nannan think. One thing in its way towards complete, it is pure, but then began to be used complete, as complete re-wear clothes in the human body, then the United States as a woman but also aging. Our story is not complete with the outcome, but the process is is so pure. Blind warrior bent to turn the side of the hill and see the world after Mt. I did not realize all the way to hell and high water, over the hill, nothing but mediocre. No peach, peach that women are called to wait in endless grind for dust scattered into the mud. Moment of truth map with red. Empty looked Yuning choke. We sometimes love is not appropriate. In that phrase said before, I would rather be bragging to the audience, the role of love is shelved, but not only is unable to match the look. There are two well-being of the world, and not to be. In today's materialistic, not to be even better than that! Those who look at you incomplete pictures, I said it was flash in the pan, because it is like real life in general, not tainted, nor complete. Trains whistling, away me, and I lingered in the track, waving goodbye and I on the train. Walk in the north, about reality, about love. Who overhead whom? The desire of love without a soul, though there is no happy ending, although some loss, but full of lucky. In the north of the North-North North.
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