The white paper on the end of the story, nothing is pure like a faint and distant melody in the heart beat, slowly, slowly reminds me of our past, as if everything is yesterday. Watercolor brush paint a happy color, paper-cut flowers with the warmth of the sun, many years ago on New Year's Day get-together, your smile is so sweet and bright, at this time, I put your name branded on my heart. Only the story is too long, open the dust laden for a long time, the students graduated signed a statement of quotations, I found, you weren't there, and you don't have any photos. I start to panic: you are missing from my memory. As a white paper, I can't find the pen point.

dom perignon When I stopped writing in this white paper and be at a loss what to do, my thoughts began to mess, I don't know what they want to calligraphy and painting, but the pen ink so inadvertently drops on the white, I began to understand, I think is so little, but also its light, is so casual, in my heart of the layers of picture. Like many years ago, I was on the road car, through the window to see the familiar and unfamiliar faces, I began to know the memory there once was a girl, she is kind, lovely, lively, cheerful, now she stood at the window, I want to call her, but the car away, she is not in at the moment, the window there is only my eyes her shadow. I'm beginning to believe that such a sentence: edge of ice, I want to hug it, ice melting, fate is death. I began my sincere hope that, at some point in the future, I can meet you again, across the sea in the two two instant, that is no longer seeking. I waved painting, the slightest ray began to show the prototype to the white dream.

When all the strokes are finished, I found that it has no color, it is not perfect. I began to crazy, I don't understand the world so pity, I put the feelings persist in writing, arrange themselves into the plot. I began to know, then you, is a symbol of spirit in my world. Like the white paper, black ink, the color of my life you have. Each cherry after flying season, I indulge in this dream prototype. But the dream for too long, when I woke up, I knew everything is his story. I feel heartache, looking at this picture it works, in dreams. A drop of red tears. Can be said to be God's blessing to me at this time, the spring breeze blowing, and that a drop of red tears drip in this colorless colorless picture, I found a dark yellow candlelight,, the whole picture has been splendid rendering. Really, you're back, with the half light glaze dream, just like in the window, let me in endless longing, see the warm days. I looked at this wonderful night, I was getting drunk. Drunk in your smile, drunk in the half light glazed you wine offer.

I put down the picture, holding half light coloured glaze, the breeze moon between respond to your smile. Occasionally remember, once you said: "believe me, we will meet again soon".

The scattered in a land where dreams are like stars, dotted with this half light coloured glaze, tonight I would wake up, drunk.不孕症治療

Hide Comments | Add Comment