He is like a child, he wants to love, but he doesn't dare to love, a surrealist painter, but he doesn't dare to love surreal.
When he got the fame and fortune he wanted, he started to want the love he left behind when he was young.
However, TA is not a toy, you need it when you need it, and throw it away when you don't need it.
He didn't know how to love someone at all, and he wasn't loved by him, so he always missed Lorca, who loved him so deeply.
No one will be waiting for you all the time, and love will disappear, even if it does not.
He has no spiritual energy in his youth, and the poet's psychology is dead.
Poets are romantic and affectionate. He is willing to remember your beauty in the past for a lifetime, but he is not willing to face your current ugliness with you.
She loves her, she knows her and him, but she still loves her.
So she fights hard and sees him in the room, huddled like a wounded child.
She laughed, and for that alone, she won.
He didn't stop, TA didn't push her away, they were like fighting.
No one is willing to bow their heads first, and the result is a lose-lose.
It's just that she played the right chips, she knew what to give up and what not to give up.
She is also a wise person who loves TA wholeheartedly, supports TA's poems, TA's revolution, and TA's blood.
Maybe she's not the person she loves the most, but she must be the one who knows her best.
He didn't live in his lover's painting, he lived in his own poetry.
There are many kinds of love, and he chose the best one.
He loves him, and he weaves their dreams with all the psalms.
He loves him, he paints their dreams.
When I woke up, the painting was also ruined.
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