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the dependents

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Dołączył: 26 Lut 2011
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Skąd: England
Płeć: Kobieta

PostWysłany: 26 Mar 2011, 12:0 Temat postu: the dependents

Editor's note: According to early spring warm sun, still snow point. Spring's starting point, a dream in brewing in the ablation. Miss it as a flowing ribbon, woven into the memories will not fade in the mind. In the moonlight a Seiki, spring evening several times to spend Perfectionist. I want to stand on their own as a timeless gesture, nourish each other, the love of a pure certainty. Watch as the moon, like in the years Jingchu, you follow where I'm hanging in your sky. If the sea becomes Kuwata, I hoe you stick a flower domain Wo. This language full of texture, into a few pieces of elegant pen to the picture. Recommended reading tour, say hello on! Spring has a
distant mountains, still snow little bit.
warm in the sun, with the blood flowing. Time in circulation, people are still busy chasing a time tunnel in the shuttle. Zhao Zhao spent to move down, but each one shift change.
write something for myself, about life, the emotion, the warmth, the parting, the dreams, the dependents
led ... ...
two thoughts in the night, demonstrateing a spring mood, what a clear and hazy. Pierce the memory of the past, the flow of time and space, life to precipitate.
distance, the wind the other end, there is an imagination flowing, the mood of a yearning to be called, that a spring bloom in the depths, such as flowers in general.
Yuet Wah water, stars sky, staring at the blue sky, light meditation; who struck a chord? Is a breath of spring, or winter's sleep?
flickering candle lit, warm the hearts of late, an old song to fill a long memory, a wish to honor promises to their long absence. To stay long past lonely hearts embellish, find a reason to repair worried about regret.
spring evening, a wonderful word, put it into the hearts of thousands of Fang-front. Song moon with light and shadow, with indifferent to the quiet state of mind, with flowers and songs of the primitive,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with a drunk song Lili's dream, the contemplation of heaven and earth and the human world, and slowly the beauty of life products, harmony and rolling ... ...
the balcony full moon, spring is still, quietly flowing in the heart, back by years. Want to stand on their own as the season of spring,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], from the green grass and yellow peach pink, the intake of the color of the season to nourish the romance of youth, so intoxicating love heart picking up a leaf.
to look for each note in the morning is the dawn, so is meditation every evening at dusk.
who weave innocent dream,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and a light Yin, or humming, decorated in the distant horizon. Watch a pair of eye, brilliant and the moon with a love of harmony.
tranquil reading Is a fisherman, Qiaozi, farmer, or the student's interesting, who wanted to depict the scenery depicting beautiful picture into the spring.
perhaps, on that yellow felt the love on Mother painful experience pain, holding a nostalgia, a Decomponentment of the warmth.
Sometimes, that seems so far away, they will forget, they will choose. As everyone knows, that feeling, that scene, that thing, man, has long been rooted in the bone marrow, can not leave, flesh and blood.
Yelan silent,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], drop the word without form, Jakunen sleep.
the emotion, warmth, love and hate, gain and loss, like beads, like thread, woven a beautiful necklace, hanging in the wrist. Ukiyo reduced until the heavy dust, leveled mountains,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], until the sea convert Kuwata ... ...

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Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere1)acquaintance. I have forgotten the name of an old lady, who was a customer on the paper route in my home town when I was a twelve-year-old boy. Yet it dwells2)in my memory that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I shall never forget.
On a winter afternoon, a friend and I were throwing stones onto the slanted3)roof of the old lady's house from a spot near her backyard. The object of our play was to observe how the stones changed to missiles4)as they rolled to the roof's edge and shot out into the yard like comets5)falling from the sky. I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and threw it out. The stone was too smooth, however, so it slipped from my hand as I let it go and headed straight not for the roof but for a small window on the old lady's back porch6). At the sound of fractured7)glass, we knew we were in trouble. We turned tail8)and ran faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.

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