watching memories

There is a beauty called alone watching memories
In between black and white, a person alive, a lonely man ...
A man always used in twilight melancholy, depressed for a long time. Thoughts, also in a nameless sorrow atmosphere the stay. Sigh the beautiful, is about to die, will put the blue decorated with color, make the person wants to blame fate, however, say not to export.johnson baby shampoo
Want to sing, like no one listen to; to work, as if just to pay; live, like the road without direction; to love, as if afraid of hurting anyone.
Once the blooming, also beautiful, but it don't stay, just missed because of a bloom time. Want to pass there, take the fragrance, unfortunately, the flowers have withered away, disappointed. Just, just turned to the moment, who hear, spend crying? Not to see, treasure in the heart of a drop of tear, and also can not flow out.
Perhaps, fade, is the most true, while flowering is past.
Some people say, can not put down, is always the best. In the surging crowd, and one pass, either leave a trace of jostle one another on the way pain, or miss the deja vu.
Some silly, some laugh, some immature, childhood sang songs, songs with a dream, are engraved in time, as on the walls of the wet moss, record of the green life, but also left a hint of sadness.
Many times, the unspoken thoughts, wind blowing, leaves no trace. Like the falling leaves of autumn, even if the fall, will also vaguely remembered in fall colors. When autumn leaves quietly away, the whole world will not remember, let the autumn leaves blowing wind, ever after? The next samsara, started again, never to be forgotten in the wind, lonely wind once memory, really who remembers?
Do not know from what time, I've always wanted to find a reason, leave the text, tell yourself, don't write.JOHNSON Shampoo
However, when busy later, whenever the mood is low, when in the dark alone, fingertip always wanted across the keyboard. Eyes, always want to look at the gray screen, flashing a writing wizard. Perhaps, it has become a habit, some once a habit is formed, it is difficult to be replaced. Can compromise their own, quietly writing his own simple happiness, bitterness. Small happiness or pain in life.
Earth wind and rain, wind blossom, irrigate the shade. Simple me, just want to write me a seasonal cycle of psalms. I am not a poet, but, writes the thing, who understand and do not know, I think, this is not important.
Had destiny not wrong, years of contribution, every paragraph encounter a collection of precious memory.
Those who pass by the time the friend, the red road meet, and not gone in the wind, all one one in the heart of brewing. Life with these colors, will never fade. In fact, as long as the experienced, treasure ...
I admit that he is a man of sorrow, but doesn't like to be one of. Still love her like the winter sun, a warm, quiet, also like those pretty happy, such as cherry blossoms like full, more like the pure white as snow and ice.
When a flower's end of story, another flower story begin. During this parting is never confused, puff of smoke. Those beautiful fireworks, first slowly out of brilliant flowers, and silk thread, correct bound entangled, gradually disappear. Beautiful with desperate affection, and then, to bloom, to die, never stop.
There is no forever, but also was a fool to ask, how far is forever. In fact, a turn, is forever. Mind if there is no person, will secure to rely on, not to fill the heart's empty and incomplete. If one day, no more tears, then, means have forgotten. " To have sailed the seven seas, except Wushan not cloud". I am afraid, will not have such tenderness and patience ...
In the confusion and snow cover, flash memory. Light lock eyes, with a bleak tone, I saw the red dandelion, beautiful incomparable. Unfortunately, not into the dream.
Forgotten in the corner of the purple Campanula, broken. A drip string missing, loose. A grain of a snowflake, melt. I do not know when persistent direction, changed.L-Carnitine
Looking back, everything is in sleep, that is, I woke up early.
Firework in March, spring. From a drop of soft water, into the south of the Yangtze river. The South outside the draw in the United States, were collected into a dream, and then continue to sleep.
Wait for wake up one day, will understand, there is a kind of beauty, called lonely watching memories.
[PR]
by fashiongirl | 2011-12-19 16:09


All time is no time when it is past.


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