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Flowers may have similar

Accidental chasing a bloom, Xu is the arrangement of destiny. We see so many flowers in the flower abortion students, Yunyan the past, Qing Huan not old appearance, or the moon desolate, or the pulse Asahi Hikaru. Window units outside the spring full of alleys, the old trunk primrose lingering Suxiang, still miss the time, there is a flower also landed on my window.USB DAC Of Kidult Online

Season bloom so, as is a clear. By browsing through old diary, yellow memories across a shade, curtain into the old city, the blurred outline of the alley, time, can't lock is opened in the shallow summer flowers.
That afternoon, the sun slowly for a moment, silent half time, I just heard outside the window is more sound rang, then spread a thin transparent to sun paper. Open the window, to climb out of a deep lake of the white dog, soft velvet like hair mud stains have aliasing, cry. Eye such as glass, with a faint, be neither friendly nor aloof, like a mottled in the green water of icy cold stone. My eyes are reflected in its absence of mind: if the pupil gradually opened a flower, a warm spring, over a weak light, it is struggling to support the body -- the original legs it is disabled. A choking sob like whimpering, since it reins in eustachian tube, breaking flow out, I am fearful room can not find reason, it is self - life will end?

The dense mist of tears eyes, vaguely cage on a network flow LAN, like mist coagulation half countersunk, spring ethereal dark -- deja vu, the eyes slowly and deeply, as projected in my mind, I seem to be in the very early, very far away, has met the...... Not so, it only relict students moan, dirty replaced the old Yan it, if I knew the moment her heart to understand the truth, if you can save, if...... Or the sun slowly for a moment, the half time of silence compass college.

This flower, complex Xie in it until the dispersed temperature swimming eyes. It is clear eyes, kiss in the years before the white dog eyes, that day is not away from, such as Qing Huan is time. Everything is too early, too much memory, just like the clear do not change.

It is gone, the flowers of the moment, in the eyes of the ledge and lax.

The old tree, open the window. Spring has come, carved on a tree word mark, twisted childish handwriting, the annihilation as the old pain, is buried not to live, become a indelible burl.

Trees in the spring after the lonely leisure pool, annual flowers, may have similar? Not the flower in its eyes, the grafted Mo at all like dismal flowers -- or it will blossom eyes, sad for a long time, for a long time.
I don't know, from the eyes to read, after losing, just know stood outside the sorrows. Now a year, and spring flowers bloom, Qing Huan is. Years later, I slowly in this moment in the sun, in the silent half time, to catch the eye, the flowers.Embroidery history  

Posted by aprico at 12:43affection