Xu wrote the words non-dust that gave it to me

[2vt8c2p4]

4.24. Rainy days, like the stretching. Days like this in bed, do not want anything.

midnight, and cold to chat, I like this moment and say hi to her.

I like this time of lonely, lonely place, and then looked at by loneliness has visited the two women. A word, phrase, there are clear pain.

understand my cold is just as pro-fox. They will leave in the message in words, I often appreciate this meet.

in many cases, she is suddenly understand a word we suddenly pain.

I believe that this world there is such a woman,Casque dr dre, a distant space to listen to the mind does not stop.

I told her: I'm looking at you're the one. I like the state of the world, right and wrong, if you're on.

southern spring, occasional rain, seems to be extratropical cyclone. I do not know weather. Just beginning to like the rain, dense, but transparent.

the most comfortable position to face the computer, and then record some, the word form.

midnight it was raining, a little feeling, a slight, a little far away, I can be a good thing to remember, including the kinds of love and not love.

that distance, there is no distance. That love, no love. That sadness, no sorrow.


4.30. That night, a streamer at the end of April. Moment, but far to cut my forbear.

April 30. The sun has vanished. I Look at the cracks in the shutters of the glass has nothing to do with my Ambilight. The world, out of tune.

off fireworks to speak with me, I look at my cold smile. We are happy that is has never been a woman.

What makes us hide in here? Watch lonely duck to water.


remember last night, suddenly the body aches. Middle of the night, as to the depths of everything, and I burst into tears, Tolerance to low place.

the original I will not see the proud look. Then again, worried, felt something shatter. Sound, hard and obscure.

wake up, pain still vaguely. I look at the vulnerability of burst. I can do.

suddenly remembered one: The world without love,ray ban lunettes de soleil, only proof of love.

Thus,Polo Ralph Lauren, even if two people sleep in a bed, but it is fierce alone. Look at some sharp do not know, look at some cutting edge of silence.

had we never close. Unnamed think that love can be. It was a conspiracy. Calculation of pain and injury.


I said to her with the cold, she said she would also like me, so I feeling slightly warm.

She once said I was easily moved by the woman, or even a word, a greeting, or a word can be.

she said of the time, I wonder whether the world can a man like her to understand me, but I eventually did not answer.

the night, trying to remember the number of Hang-hui, how to not think of it, all attempts are annihilation.

to smile, but clearly felt the cool earth of liquid flow down from the corner.

The only thing I can safely put his name on here, man,Polo Ralph Lauren pas cher, I was lost in one place. Just to be met.

reminds me of the bathroom of his towel,casque beats, his facial cleanser. Think of his long hair, think of his body.

and these are no longer a place, I think he is still traveling to Shanghai and Taicang.

I can do, there are only thoughts. All the contacts have become nothing.

I certainly have not. If this is not love, then I no longer know what is love.

I want in a night, take a taxi, go Taicang. I like to wait for a unknown wait. An unknown love love.

If loneliness linger,polo homme, then I am willing that alone. But, I can not find. But, I can not go back.

the night, feeling the endless, consuming all it was emptied.

then I decided to dispose of the city center itself.


expect fireworks off a good, cold is good, pro-fox is good, good sub-qi, the dice is good, good flocculation of non-dust.

Xu wrote the words non-dust that gave it to me, I was happy, she said: Honey, this woman in the ascendant.

She said: until that day. You encounter in a words.

heart are like the branches by the spread of the vine. Grow up in the piercing. I know I fled through the word.

from. Start went to a feast on the text. From. Promised to their forever forever.

these words has nothing to do forever. Love has nothing to do. Reminds me of fireworks in the extreme. Superb release. Moment of dying.

in the turbulent times. Everyone is like a stone.

sway with the waves and the reality of their own in the round distance. I see when the tide went through my body.

peeling down the desolate. I know we are in different time and space with the ruins of paradise.

我的爱 在这密密的秋雨里逢生（清舞飞扬）

陌生在转身以后

the sweet


The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.