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Dear ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
I'm tired ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]!
I'm really tired,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]!
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 ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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 ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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 ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I love you
I can not get you .. ..
knowing that we can not .

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

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.