a habit of the night.
from Shenmeshihou do not know, is always one person, a person so quietly in the night, the melancholy, this lonely.
Road is not and why, in the temperature of 23 degrees, I always took the whole body quite overturned, Chuangjiaozhiya - Zhiya - Zhiya the ring for my break this Xiaotian Di's Death, Air with a share of the taste, to know the Piaobo for a long time, the heart of an undetermined began dancing, looking for what » What are waiting for the arrival of « Disaster and blessing.
opened a public school, rice, the white paper on the 2nd word of numerous Chinese characters in the row, the word is a word, the word is the word, the words of the proverb words, after Is the word, a text or even a novel, a country's history. It is like the levy of human evolution, a kind of evolution, the best way to a kind of nostalgia. The language originated in a single syllable, a Chinese character meaning there are too many, the severity of each tone represents a different meaning. In this way, almost daily Maijin this article, no figures, in fact, reading chapter is a feeling, is also a state, if the snow and ice in the world, can result Pengdu a good book and that Hanliuyijin Filthy book is well-deserved.
book is also Jimo, a simple text can only performance in this book has charm, value. San Mao in the "if", wrote the letter and the book are Jimo. Just as a person came to the wilderness, the grass is that the characters in the book, in fact, I do not like solitude, especially in the night. Everyone is afraid of darkness, fear of loneliness. In such a night, everyone needs companionship, care and the need Wencun. Death is always and ionomer so far, one person in this night, another lonely, lonely, lonely and the lonely, until becoming a habit.
with me, a person's night, is sad. Reading books, listening to music, Internet, it is not I have to do things at night, when many Hou, is a compelling, is a pair of their own comfort and to pass the time. One of the night, although it has given me a lot of thinking and some beautiful, sometimes I let nostalgia, but the waiting time, I was in tears, loneliness and loneliness.
alone in the time-that the static, as in dreams, dreams that I have been running along theRoad.
sometimes very imagine San Mao, as the, what can really do not have to think about, for your dream, find that their ownthe Sahara desert and that what the West.
perhaps, I have only been along it, it has been along until come to an end.