Eve, sun, cold, have a little girl bareheaded, barefoot, hungry is lamentable to sell matches in the dark. The Little Match Girl was motherless, and also lost the most loved children's grandmother. I do not dare to go home for fear he would hit me. Just cold and hungry, she nestled in a corner ngoj herself and a match for heating. The first match for the warmth you feel like sitting by the fireplace. I quickly wiped Monday match, you can see a sumptuous dinner table pops up. Then I struck a match to see the third and Christmas trees. Swipe Wednesday match: my gentle grandmother appear beautiful, friendly and kindly know much. But the illusion that disappears quickly after the match went out. I hastily wiped out the matchbox to forward clinging to her grandmother. The Little Match Girl died in the cold when her dream to fly high together forever
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