You can often see single backpackers walking quietly on the road.
On the bus, when he got on the bus, his eyes fell on the jeans of the previous passenger, his eyes were full of holes, and the one on his butt was so big that he could see half a pair of panties. With a smile, he was carrying a super large bag. I don't know where he came from, I think. Thinking of this, all souls were immediately taken to a different place.
Going to her house to watch frida at night, the movie is neither beautiful nor literary, but there is a short tenderness in it that is very memorable. When I looked at it, the sky outside the window darkened a little bit, and the street lights on the street were bright, one by one, as if the plane landed that night, and my heart was full of dull disappointment, dull pain, only one glance, and since then. All good dreams are like damp matchsticks, small and gentle, neatly arranged in boxes one by one.
Outside their windows, every road is straight up, not melancholy. While I was watching the disc, I watched them fight. She kept smashing her heavy leather shoes on him. When he couldn't bear the pain, he chased after her all over the room. She was in a car accident, she was intoxicated with gold, and gold was sprinkled all over her. She lay peacefully in a pool of blood, her eyes closed and her body open.
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