Everything is as comfortable as a distant fairy tale, warm and clear, and occasionally with a touch of sadness. Today, we are young and young, even if we no longer have it, but I can still touch the morning fog and the warming soft sun. We walked along the memory and kept walking. It��s like flying flowers, we dream of coming to the valley. The Yingshan Red of the Manchus seems to be competing for us, and still abides by the childhood agreement. Just, I have ever defaulted. Along the way, my hands are full of red. This is not only the redness of the valley, but also the redness of our smiles. The white windmill flower on the mountainside is still a little bit of a star, and it is patchwork. I have no time to take care of it. When the wind started Marlboro Cigarettes, these small windmills kept spinning; when the wind fell, they stopped reluctantly. Between the two, it seems like a acquaintance, but it is like a world. This swaying flower carries our years of laughter. At the end, we will pick up the azaleas and tear off the petals and scatter them together in the wind. Watching the petals flying in the wind is free, like a childhood dream. When the wind stopped, it only fell to the ground. The infinite silk rain is as thin as we come to the field. On the roadside, the mulberry is full of branches, but it is not yet ripe. The faint erythema is still hidden in the rich black, but we still take them off arbitrarily and greedily taste their sour and sweet flesh. Suddenly thunder and anger Cigarettes For Sale, the wind and rain come. Muir, rain and patter, like a crystal bead curtain, hanging down the sky. Gradually, the rain is getting bigger and bigger, like a bean, and the pain is dripping in my heart. Subconsciously, we took our hands and rushed forward, saw a corrugated, flew past, hid under the eaves, and fortunately slipped through my heart. In fact, I don't hate the rain at the turn of spring and summer, because I am coming fast and going fast. But this time Parliament Cigarettes, somehow, it feels very long. Looking at the mulberry on the other side of the road, although it is close at hand, it seems to be far away from the sky, which reminds me of a word - a long way to go. The rain, still not stopped, is fine and dense, and the passing vehicles drove through a layer of white halo, which was long and lingering, and the doubt was a dream. Rain, do not leave. I walked out of the eaves and stopped at the side of the road. The car that passed by, grew up and went to me, was splashed with a spring water. However, the rain stopped, and we couldn��t wait to run down to the mulberry trees to stop the rain. Quiet at night. Tired, tired, sleep a childhood, far away in the dream to relive childhood, warm as old.