Editor's note: According to the feelings of the window in between the lines a little bit of dye bleed off is inspiring. Like the text. Opened the door, and often can not find my memory of the landscape.
a locust tree, several strains of vines, three basins hydrangea, blue stone side, there are several Wawadajiao with the nose of dragging these children ... ...
very far away. Buried in the sand I walked in years.
Even today the village, could not find the memory of the landscape.
tired, my only open window is the scenery. Standing on the north window, my eyes are a beautiful terrace block slip back. Those golden balcony patchwork, the same shape. The difference is the balcony where the people and different curtains hanging in the balcony. Standing on the south balcony, striking is that a one or window open or closed, here is my open more often to rest. But does not rise or do not bow, or can not be found landscapes.
My world is compressed in such a concrete cast of the cold world.
I often thought in front of these windows for no reason, the windows of the others guess all kinds of stories happen every day, but I can not see. Everyone is their own stage actor, in a corner of life of their own interpretation of the story. I am the same. I can not hear the voice of the window across, can not see the story line. However, those vague through the glass windows gave me a sort of free fiction. Evening light a window a window light. Sometimes I can see a bit of soft earth gentle stream from a small window Yat out. Light seems to be the same, bright and shining. The light fixtures are not the same. Lighting performance of the owner's personality and preferences, poor and rich. Light compete Yan,abercrombie, those stories will be a curtain a curtain of colorful curtains to cover up. A window to the window of the red lights of buildings and add a fresh bustling vitality. I saw dimly flickering TV screen in, as if someone walking,burberry pas cher, in conversation, in laughter ... just do not know whether these light like the light,louboutin, like me worry ... ...
I returned to the house, pull my white silk curtain. Then the red lamp on my start alone on solitary. In the eyes of others, I am also a story of mystery blurred it.
I live on the second floor. This is not a high from the ground floor. From the ground near some dirt I can breathe the atmosphere. I dig the soil is a woman,abercrombie and fitch, perhaps the city can not change the aromatic never brought me from the soil atmosphere. Unfortunately, I no trees outside the window. The stranger outside the building before I have a tall poplar, I like the balcony a few poplars and tender new leaves, to see white light Yanghwa flying Yang, listen to the voice of autumn leaves, the night beat. Late autumn, I will look large and lush aspen leaf spring and the season slowly dying. Winter snow letting dry poplar branches bald shiny white coating on overnight. However, no trees in front of the building, only a few had just set on the Begonia, the low vegetation of small flowers and the common holly. Because there is no trees, cicadas also will be busy in summer a distant. Less shade,louboutin, it touches on building more than a dash of sunshine.
I often silently and confrontation in front of buildings,doudoune moncler, each floor in front of me when I breath a constant silence. Clock ticking the house day after day the same turning circle, the more lonely and show me the open space of quiet and distant. I looked up,moncler pas cher, eyes can reach by building trimmed sky. After the rain the sky is an extremely quiet blue. This short blue can make people feel the freedom of the nomadic mind, to abandon some of the distractions, flat service troubles thoughts. Sometimes even the sky will be over one or two birds. I do not know these birds come from, where to go, it is also a loss of flight. However, it has a pair of wings, I do not have wings, so really enviable. It can be free to fly, do not like me, freezing in the cement bottom, give the first look at days on the 1st day, year after year. Some clouds drifting across the sky often, and sometimes very white beautiful, casual ease, sometimes it Chouchangbaijie, chi dark. Bow, all the plants will rush into the eyes,burberry, this is a season of green, I highly treasure. Regardless of whether grass flowers, came to my eyes, is the guest of my life. They in my view, there is no beauty and ugliness and the hierarchy of the points. Aromatic but because of his so-called man of whom may be like it. Even a dog's tail flower, I think it will have the pride and heartfelt emotion.
time day by day goes by. Window chill day upon day. Whether it is that season, brought me a window view will be different. The sun burning people's eyes no longer have the power to spend no longer be as hot as summer, unrestrained. It touches the sun, as long as the rain not to, it would have not been invited.
Autumn is the rainy season here. Rainy time is often depressed when. At this time I have a desire to cry. Why cry, do not understand themselves. Not for funeral flowers, not for Autumn, perhaps the heart of an emotional Lili in the rain dripping slowly dying it. Rain in my life too much accumulation. I listen to the rain, mind was raining. I lean down to do the hands of the window, watching the rain lingering Ruqirusu. The mixing of light rain and fog drifting, sinking many memories. This rain is about three decades. From the muddy hills in the small village to the outside the building's spacious asphalt road, from the braided tie the claw worry little girl to the window to listen to the rain hold the arms of a woman know to make real depression, it has been so not too tight walking in the years of life, even the taste have not changed. Not pleased, not to have compassion. But I'm just a small woman, I can not. How many people and things in the rain, all was changed. Years of changing the force is, change the situation, but also change the feelings. Then look at the rain under the eaves on crutches grandmother now faint in the Rain in the Mist turned into a pile of autumn in the silent earth; then draped a plastic sheet wore a straw hat pick her daughter's father disappeared in the autumn rains in the ... ... I leave in the family footsteps in being pushed to the edge of life. I have not reward the age of the rain. I remember a poem written rain:
young listen to the rain song upstairs, Candle faint Luozhang;
passenger boat in the prime of life listen to the rain, low clouds river wide,louboutin, off the geese called westerly;
monk now listen to the rain House, the stars are coming already;
joys and sorrows end of ruthless, bit by bit to the term of order before dawn.
life is so, send autumn winter, winter snows Spring. When the snow ah, then a window will be colder winter snows are picking their way cautiously feeling? Into the winter, if I would give up a white window, to embrace a snow sky, snow and singing,louboutin pas cher, snow and the line ... ...相关的主题文章：

• http://hi.svk.ac.th/blogs/posts/ofjacnjyni
• http://www.myquan.net/show/51852

Grateful is grateful to all, including people who give you resistance. Because there is no resistance, it will not power.