During the yellow plum season, the fine rain spreads like a big net on the top of the head. The most likely thing to happen this season is love. The most vulnerable is the lover. The continuous rain is the testimony of love and injury that has passed away with the wind. This rainy season will not be less every year, but it will get od at the corner of the street at dusk, holding roses in my hands. The crimson petals and my messy hair were covered with water drops. The smoldering water vapor, the exhaled heat can't stop me from seeing you in the distance Cigarettes For Sale. At that moment, I even felt that you are not far from me Parliament Cigarettes. In the footsteps, I gently licked the water in the roadside. I was afraid that the splashed mud would stain my white shoes Online Cigarettes. That year, during the rainy season, standing in the cold rain, I was waiting for you from time to time, just waiting for you. Even if it is just passing by, even if it is just a casual glimpse, even if it is only an accidental turn back. Waiting for a wishful thinking will not wait until after all. After the rainy season, I filled the roses into my house, the bed, the window sill... Then the flowers were withered, I took the petals and put them in a small box, I can only commemorate me in this way. The love sin begny years later, I still remember the love of a person. It��s just that the memory of all this seems to have been going on for a long time. Today, I am so calm in the face of love, not as cramped as before, so sincere. I have met several women, but they have never approached my heart Newport Cigarettes. I found that I would never love, no matter how hard I try, I can't get true o go back to the past and return to the distant rainy season that year. Find the wooden box many years ago, with a thick layer of ash on it. I gently licked the dust of the years and opened those past. Unfortunately, all the memories have dried up, and even the colors are not clear. I kept thinking back, thinking about the incitement of the young, and thinking about the first time that I am heartbroken. Pick up the petals and give them a moldy smell. I know that my years are not new, but I am still stubbornly looking for the past. In the alley in front of your house, I don��t know if it��s still a stone paving road. I don��t know if the road is covered with moss. Is there a street stall at the food stall? In the memory, I always slipped in the alley. There was always a grandmother's food stall on the corner of the memory. The old grandmother in memory remembered me likelf step by step from those years, like a graceful, sad movie, telling an embarrassing story. I am the protagonist in the story, but no one is accompanying me. Zhang Ailing said: "Life is a gorgeous robe, but it is covered with a scorpion." I feel that my life is more like an ordinary old coat, and I have been trying to make it glamorous, many years later. I discovered that everything I did was futile. Is this a kind of i between today and yesterday. For example, love, once obsessed in my own mind, but also can not be traced, and when love comes one after another, my kind of attachment is gone. In fact, I am still persistent, still obsessed with the past, and I am persistent in the past. I know that people can't live forever in the past, I have my own new life Marlboro Red 100S. But those who are the purest and most true youth are not forgotten by everyone.