Then a man silently running in the rain

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lonely day

autumn rain mixed with strikes every corner of this world! Damp air gives a depressing taste! A man drinking a lot,Polo Ralph Lauren pas cher! Then a man silently running in the rain! I do not know where to go? I do not know the pace of panic will step on the next moment where! In this special day suddenly lost soul like numb. . . . .
called a kind of sweet poison! Called a kind of gentle pain! Kind of love is called to nothing,Polo Ralph Lauren! I started to panic a lot of strange things to start smoking as frowning when unfounded grief! Forget the kind of thinking is called the intelligence! Sometimes the original can be so earth-shattering the silence, for example,dre beats, the pain. Really had a lot of things in this world can not be expected, for example, my disappointment!
she said, I will go! Heart of the rock-like uncomfortable pressure, people feel out of breath very easy to think of death. Death! Long time never comes to words! Instantly come to mind, he himself was startled! It turned out that life is really full of strange, suddenly worry about the gap between hi suddenly very easy to hit what I call the strong fragmentation. People always feel self-righteous how how? Until one day when the real test before us, he realized everything is just kidding himself!
seems in this world there is nothing in this to last forever, no matter your taste, whether in the piggy bank on the way the tree leaves that holding hands or bent eyebrows when she was angry, seem to be as The lonely season with blown very far very far to go, I am nowhere to be found far to far to have no idea. . . . Lonely when the invasion came, I could not resist holding the shoulder like a child leaning against the wall thinking about sunny days, we traveled together to those deep in the alley, I think you rely on the kind of warm!
street lighting to show off, rain in the light of the insinuations made under the colorful, very loud! Looked up in the air sway those who want to see what is the liquid, instant, his eyes moist,beats by dre! Coverage of the people in the rain suddenly become small together, perhaps, who has always been the smallest objects in nature.
across the mountains across the sea like a gentle and sweet like the illusory bubble, reached out for the day live head pronouncing the so-called well-being, everything in life has outlined the beautiful colors of things are sudden change of reach, I desperately cling to the so-called that he said to himself, happy holidays, cheers,beats by dre! Then, pale yellow liquid and was sad to go with the belly swallow. Seven bottles of beer down eight crooked shop over the ground, like all the beers are coming down his head going, spinning like a halo, watery eyes blurred Mongolia.
I suddenly discovered that in this city, so I'm still lonely, still remains a forgotten by the world's children,dre beats!
lonely day
autumn rain mixed with strikes every corner of this world! Damp air gives a depressing taste! A man drinking a lot,polo homme! Then a man silently running in the rain! I do not know where to go? I do not know the pace of panic will step on the next moment where! Suddenly in this special day like a lost soul numb

Fall in love with sad

I do not know this world

居心去触摸


The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.