 Wysłany: Wto 2:52, 05 Kwi 2011 Temat postu: I ... I do not want |
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| Dear ,tods shoes
I'm tired ,dre beats! I'm really tired,tods men! to maintain that I am a person belonging to the two of us love ..... I am powerless ... I Xinyou , is weak ! remember those memories , I do not know what should be my share of fond memories of pain or suffering .... ... love I do not know how long I can , I do not know when I will Slowly fallen ,beats by dre, but I always have dried up when the time ... time .... We will no longer be us were you, I ... I do not want dear I really do not want ,tods, but who know that our love is really so fragile ..... I really love you, from start to now .. I Want to forget, but still can not forget you always think you inadvertently you like to compare with other people online when like to see you do not see your personalized written signatures What the Internet , it tends to look at your photos sleep will think about our lives before I'm sorry dear ,beats by dre, I love you I can not get you .. .. knowing that we can not . your wind chimes sway But I can not die Admire Admire We were driving along the road from Treguier to Kervanda. We passed at a smart trot between the hedges topping an earth wall on each side of the road; then at the foot of the steep ascent before Ploumar the horse dropped into a walk, and the driver jumped down heavily from the box. He flicked his whip and climbed the incline, stepping clumsily uphill by the side of the carriage, one hand on the footboard, his eyes on the ground. After a while he lifted his head, pointed up the road with the end of the whip, and said-- "The idiot!" The sun was shining violently upon the undulating surface of the land. The rises were topped by clumps of meagre trees, with their branches showing high on the sky as if they had been perched upon stilts. The small fields, cut up by hedges and stone walls that zig-zagged over the slopes, lay in rectangular patches of vivid greens and yellows, resembling the unskilful daubs of a naive picture. And the landscape was divided in two by the white streak of a road stretching in long loops far away, like a river of dust crawling out of the hills on its way to the sea. "Here he is," said the driver, again. In the long grass bordering the road a face glided past the carriage at the level of the wheels as we drove slowly by. The imbecile face was red, and the bullet head with close-cropped hair seemed to lie alone, its chin in the dust. The body was lost in the bushes growing thick along the bottom of the deep ditch. |
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