of the past is invariably so sad

c5qh6156 · Wysłany: 26 Mar 2011, 01:0 Temat postu: of the past is invariably so sad

of the past is invariably so sad ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

years

fine athletic, with World Health are nostalgic , sweet oath. The emergence of guard you have missed my life's aspiration

call you pray Heaven there , even if the life of the moment . Modoribashi upper years.

set foot on the gate of hell , blue sky onto the Land of the Dead Road . Rivera came across the forgotten Modoribashi . nonetheless stood calmly on the

Road ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], his hands hit cure my life forget things, whose son Dan Sansheng road.

the wind across the centuries , standing nowhere so years.

I Modoribashi Alone on a stand while waiting for Modoribashi years.

Meng Po ; boy , you stand with me Why not a hundred years old woman with a new start ?

off the wind; to loved ones , I would like other years !

Meng Po ; Maybe you love has been reincarnated , changing how you know her face ?

finally wind down a long silence ; why, heaven you Haohen ah. I love the people where you are,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]!

hoarse voice echoed off the wind in the Modoribashi River, a silly people are struggling and so have hundreds of years. This is the consequence of their

it, God always make fun of a lot of fool people. Gradually eliminate the voice cry , go down with the wind slowly .

not sure how long , perhaps very far away. After all no match for the wind down drink Mengpo Tang , a drop of the truth of the tears fall soup. Not off the wind does not love her ,

but the wind off the loneliness and emptiness to spend a day in pain . How long he can hold a person a year or two ... ... .

wind or embarked on a cycle down the road .

emotional Network World article ( sad log ) [link widoczny dla zalogowanych] for you love the United States text ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], QQ space log,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], hope you enjoy !

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The path led to a tiny village perched on the steep sides of a mountain. The place consisted of a straggling unmade road which was lined on either side by small houses. Even under a clear blue sky, the village looked forbidding, as all the houses were built of grey mud bricks. The village seemed deserted, the only sign of life being an ugly-looking black goat on a short length of rope tied to a tree in a field nearby. Sitting down on a dilapidated wooden fence near the field, we opened a couple of tins of sardines and had a picnic lunch. All at once, I noticed that my wife seemed to be filled with alarm. Looking up I saw that we were surrounded by children in rags who were looking at us silently as we ate. We offered them food and spoke to them kindly, but they remained motionless. I concluded that they were simply shy of strangers. When we later walked down the main street of the village, we were followed by a silent procession of children. The village which had seemed deserted, immediately came to life. Faces appeared at windows. Men in shirt sleeves stood outside their houses and glared at us. Old women in black shawls peered at us from doorways. The most frightening thing of all was that not a sound could be heard. There was no doubt that we were unwelcome visitors. We needed no further warning. Turning back down the main street, we quickened our pace and made our way rapidly towards the stream where we hoped the boatman was waiting.