Staring at the beautiful years, taking advantage of the troubles of growing up, looking forward to the blessings brought by the meteors, thinking about the beauty of future life. Looking back on more than 6,000 days and nights, I suddenly realized that my childhood has drifted away from me, and there is nowhere to look for the past play, laughter, innocence, childishness has become a precious title page in memory. The people and things that always inadvertently think of childhood, and the creek, the garden, with flowers, grass
Newport Cigarettes, trees, simple and clear, quietly warmed my whole childhood. It was a quiet homeland and my hometown, burying all the laughs and tears of my childhood. At that time, we were still a group of children with a runny nose and bare feet. I like to play games in my grandmother's garden. What eagle catches the chickens, one or two, these familiar and distant names, each time with a faint love. Then on the night of the stars, listen to my grandmother telling the story of the gods. The seven bright and bright eyes are the beautiful eyes of the seven fairies. On that bright moon, there is a man named Wu Gang who cuts a forever. The tree...the sky is very blue at that time, the star is very bright, the dream is like being in the sky, the sky is full of sunshine after the rain, we can go to the creek to catch the fish, and forget everything in the end
Marlboro Lights. Just remember a stupid fish with red stripes, you can catch a lot every time. In the spring, we went to the field to find a small hole to catch the mud, and then we didn��t dare to go home in the mud. In the autumn, we caught it in a golden grain pile. It was full of sunshine, and it was heard with pure laughter. Far away, the garden of my grandmother is the place where I stayed the most. When the sun was lazy and sprinkled in the garden, I went to hold the kettle of the semi-human to water the flowers
mokingusacigarettes.com. Grandma likes to raise flowers, the garden has a lot of flowers, in a string of red, rose... and a persimmon tree. The flowers of the persimmon tree are now completely unimpressed. Grandpa occasionally brings some flowers from the mountains. The splendid and unknown flowers always emit a rich fragrance in the afternoon, simple and beautiful. When memories are fascinated by the flowers, I don��t think of the singer��s low-pitched voice and plain melody. ��The laughter reminds me of my flowers, quietly driving for me in many corners of my life...�� This sly and wonderful feeling is like a bunch of red buds of honey, sweet and short, and the time of endless childhood, like a light smoke, is blown away by the breeze, in "red cherry, green banana" In the streamer, the childhood boat sailed quietly. After regaining the past, I found many happiness and warmth in my childhood.
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