The rain in the old days fell according to people and scattered a pool of water. The flower of memory dies in the promised time, leaving the ground in ruins.. Slowly stepping on the stranger to return, although cherish the scenery still exist, but sigh the old friend no longer.
Chimes at Midnight, a memorial to the three generations in the wind-swept year, Gusu District Polygonatum odoratum, and a few generations wrapped in The Continent. Time boiled the rain, the rain fell on the world of mortals, the wind into the lane together lingering. Memory of the ship, the ship hit the old friend, according to Lan Jiang Xi old words. Perhaps, on the tree-lined road of the years, fallen leaves covered with memories record the past and warn the future. With the passing of time, even if reduced to debris, the words entered into the past should be buried deeply in the sandstorm inside of memory..
The lonely lamp has no company and the yellow tone can only add a little sadness.. Quiet lake silent, bitter white Waning moon, express infinite sadness. The past, which cannot be escaped or earned, has set up a permanent tombstone behind it, full of epitaphs commemorating the past and mourning those youth that will eventually pass away.. Bitterness is a trace of despair revealed in the performance of cadres. Countless The Memory of The 3d can no longer be pieced together into stories that belong to the past..
Vaguely dreaming, vague figure, into an eternal nightmare, the soul of the grinding period, the daylights out of being tortured by accidental reunion, looking back again, the path of memory, only empty echo. Countless times in my dream and vanished that day, but I woke up in the reality of Birthday In Chong Qing. The so-called Iraqi people are just looking at each other across the world. They can't be reached. They have a deep affection for each other. How can they help cool thin?. In the vast sea of people, the thin mist has lost the direction of the mind and can no longer find its perch on the other side.. (责任编辑：admin)