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Gradually autumn, although there are cool, but I do not know the distance you still lonely, just want to be haven't met in a long time. Life is always like a story. The person who has read it has not been able to read it yet, but she still can not understand her heart!
Sometimes want to and you can say goodnight, however, written letters but did not send the ocean. The evening of June is a late autumn mist. Like a layer of yarn, as impenetrable as you! But he did not dare to uncover partly hidden and partly visible, the fog, though, that I don't know how to face life now, but also in life brings me every little bit, even if it is painful.
My story is being written, but has been the lack of a former your readers. Quietly become sad. Many stories just had no intention, and see who is the germination of other ideas.
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