Even if you go a thousand feet can not go beyond nostalgia, though I have returned home fields thousands of times and can not find the stain fungus. Celebrations are always filled, silent reluctantly lay low through out the memories. Every morning wake up watching collecting small branches at the window, the spring rains are moving quickly. Silent heart, no wonder chi sky, sunny one heart, one rain .... Where I-season season, the cool rain rice and cold winds pick season run last season and passionate fiery hot. The wake-season rains lonely town after hibernation season. Suddenly, craving to heart is running engrossed arms on sunny asphalt trail, grabbed the little roamed the city on the remote. Promise to love the old days his only memory I turned intolerable, struggling with the memories, frail after a bout of sickness, fatigue and thirst to hear the voice pat downs before an airspace warm empty the protruding .. .
đang được dịch, vui lòng đợi..
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