Written text, but is in all day to write, write some heart, write some course, writing those cool scenery, write the lonely time, wrote a hair, send a delete, roles and then write, sometimes even don't know what I wrote, between trance awake and a read, but read filled with bitterness. The portrait is got stuck in the swamp, day after day of sinking, completely lost once. Not a subject, not an end, only the endless pain, helpless cangmang on the dreams of youth!

Looking up at the sky, many people come to mind. Some people left, there is no return; Some people leave, never farewell. If only I a person to stay put. Wait, or miss. Miss leave people stay in the palm of memory, waiting for the future to my novel. Often points not clear, what things, or people and is not

Life is not what is made of the cause of much is ready. So, see the thick forest, you as long as the clear conscience to do one of the tall tree; See the Yangtze river pentium, you only look forward to spray in the crystal clear conscience to do a drop; See the boundless blue sky, you only peaceful a clear conscience to do clouds. Is is a tree, but it can fight against wind and rain, although it was a drop, but it can nourish the movie, although it was a, but it can dress up the blue sky.