2014/01/15
Station looking forward
Love, a man at the station waiting for, like waiting for the ill fate, dazed, know nothing at all. Looking forward, the next station, will meet what kind of person. Assume that, he will have to face, and how the story.
The sun was wrapped around the station, may be a cheerful boy. He was dressed in a solution of two buttons white shirt, carrying a blue backpack, the canthus tip of brow are plated on the light of joy. Perhaps, he has a good temper, has a group of good friends. He is very optimistic, his next stop, would be to go to travel, travel to the sunlight.
凹凸洞
The fog shrouded with the station, would have stood a melancholy girl. She had no umbrella, let rain down her smooth down her cheeks, eyes hanging with a thin layer of yarn, unclear whether rain or tears. Perhaps, she can not find the peace of his, her current life is not what she wants. She was at a loss, her next station, will be to find, to find the first belongs to her beauty.
The station to station, who walked again, will become the past. Those remaining or sad or happy memories, quietly settling down into the dust, frivolous, that is their to trace. So, every station, smoke and dust four.
All the time, he is not a story, not too much cry and quiet life. So, love to the station, look at the people of every hue, secretly fathom their story. I think their stories, knocking my sleeping thoughts. So, all the imagination, even if it is sent to the station, smoke and dust four.
Love, in the car looking car of the scene, looked at them rapidly backwards. Like those who lay life memories, in the time of action, all the way back, until they were left behind in the whole world, and once childish heart. Then, all the young and frivolous was hard to take, only sunlight cut thin shadow, in the initial stage. And, horse Heng Jiang first, so there was no discussion into the final wilderness quiet.tom ford sunglasses
The station, or small station, are immersed in the story. A passer-by, a passer-by past, B, had once the passers-by B. And I, just with a pen, with the crowd to a station, quietly down, there are stories of their story.
I will make a note of that hanging canthus tears girl, will make a note of that smoking a depraved youth, will make a note of that sweet couple, will make a note of that happy, pregnant women, the garbage old, lame, blind youth will record...... Or heard, or fantasy, I will write down their stories, and they pass by the scenery. Do not go down, that's just the station on the edge on the circle of emotions.按揭貸款
The sun was wrapped around the station, may be a cheerful boy. He was dressed in a solution of two buttons white shirt, carrying a blue backpack, the canthus tip of brow are plated on the light of joy. Perhaps, he has a good temper, has a group of good friends. He is very optimistic, his next stop, would be to go to travel, travel to the sunlight.
凹凸洞
The fog shrouded with the station, would have stood a melancholy girl. She had no umbrella, let rain down her smooth down her cheeks, eyes hanging with a thin layer of yarn, unclear whether rain or tears. Perhaps, she can not find the peace of his, her current life is not what she wants. She was at a loss, her next station, will be to find, to find the first belongs to her beauty.
The station to station, who walked again, will become the past. Those remaining or sad or happy memories, quietly settling down into the dust, frivolous, that is their to trace. So, every station, smoke and dust four.
All the time, he is not a story, not too much cry and quiet life. So, love to the station, look at the people of every hue, secretly fathom their story. I think their stories, knocking my sleeping thoughts. So, all the imagination, even if it is sent to the station, smoke and dust four.
Love, in the car looking car of the scene, looked at them rapidly backwards. Like those who lay life memories, in the time of action, all the way back, until they were left behind in the whole world, and once childish heart. Then, all the young and frivolous was hard to take, only sunlight cut thin shadow, in the initial stage. And, horse Heng Jiang first, so there was no discussion into the final wilderness quiet.tom ford sunglasses
The station, or small station, are immersed in the story. A passer-by, a passer-by past, B, had once the passers-by B. And I, just with a pen, with the crowd to a station, quietly down, there are stories of their story.
I will make a note of that hanging canthus tears girl, will make a note of that smoking a depraved youth, will make a note of that sweet couple, will make a note of that happy, pregnant women, the garbage old, lame, blind youth will record...... Or heard, or fantasy, I will write down their stories, and they pass by the scenery. Do not go down, that's just the station on the edge on the circle of emotions.按揭貸款
Posted by beechnut at 18:32
│げｇんぃｎ
