At night, there was a wind blowing, and I knew that the scorpion outside the courtyard would not be able to resist the temptation of the wind and fall with the wind. I also remembered that "the sorrowful scorpion fell, the mountain was sobbing and leaking." I could not help but put on my clothes and walked out of the hospital. Just to calm down again and find a peace of mind in this night. But I still can't remember how many days I got up at night. The scorpion floats and floats, blowing and blowing. Far from touching, it broke my heart. I searched the stars, I just wanted to take the most beautiful stars and put them in the bottle Marlboro Cigarettes, telling the story of the time to the stars Carton Of Cigarettes. Because the nephew once whispered: There is a dream that has never gone far. Who remembers, that night is also the midsummer night, we look up tenderly, taking the stars as evidence, taking the scorpion as a guide, and making a beautiful dream. We also worked together to pull the small hands and work together to fight together. We seem to be stunned by our own solemnity, but suddenly restore the child's simple nature, the silver bell-like laughter is clear in the ear but it seems to be blurred. Who remembers, we are running on the road of dreams, we are on the road Hard pains and joys and smiles support each other and believe in each other. Along the way, we have become more mature and mature. We are always looking for a little understanding, eager for a trace of relief, even if it is just a simple believe in you. Our hearts will also be touched. Because, in that dream: We used to run hard on the playground, and the dust rising seems to be jumping against the back of our youth; we used to practice the ball under the camphor tree Parliament Cigarettes, and the leaves seem to reflect the way we insist; we used to be in the classroom Online Cigarettes. In the pen, there seems to be the sweat of our struggle under the glass window. The tiny past is vivid, making the dream clearer, sparkling, and illuminating every familiar day. If one day, once again, the wind will tell you something you didn't know. Just like that night Cheap Cigarettes, the dream that never went far, was filled with scented flowers and lingered around you. A dream, it floats the four seasons, spring planting, summer farming, autumn harvest, winter collection. A dream, it shines in the four seasons, flickering, faint, clear, fuzzy. I have already written the heart wall that I once wrote into memory, whether it is wind or rain, or sunny. I think: We always have to move forward, and time will always tell us what the dream looks like. No matter what we have encountered and what we have experienced. I will never forget the stars in the night, and the blind man carries the dream. We made a promise: give flowers a dream.
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