In this quiet night, I suddenly thought of the memory of those lost years, carefully, that time I was too naive, however, all happy days and only at that time to have because, when I also do not know what trouble what worries.

Turn a laptop on hand, put it down in the little book of youth in a dream, to lay key fluttered on a piece of paper hold can no longer intervene straighten all past things and emotion, is left behind in the dust which corner of the desk? Didn't know its shape well, Dim light, looking for, if you remember correctly, it should be is it, my eyes is that attached the upper right corner of a few lines: they say that she was very beautiful sth She cannot help but admit that she is a light bulbs instead of flowers. Don't remember the original reason for the selected journal.Readily turned over a few pages, handwriting is illegible at will, and the content is mostly broken stump, or only the beginning, Syria not long later, or only the frame, not yet filled up a wealth of flesh and blood. Look at those choppy ink, I can't think of original mood. Really can't remember. Time to go quietly, together with its lost far more than an occasional moments of the day.

In my mind, spent a lot of lingering (or that romantic) of the season, had the repeat of ice and fire, and there have been fresh flowers bloom (or said to be the passion) warmly. Feeling is inevitable. Life may be, all great and humble, all rich and in lowly, the mighty history only for a limited stay, when people feel old, everything is blown apart when nature is still the Willow curl upwards, peach blossoms in full bloom, brimming with youth

Turn a laptop on hand put it down in the little book of youth in a dream

Partager cet article