I looked at the thick clouds all over the sky. The sky was gray and gray, and the clouds were gray and gray. The solidified clouds were like cotton candy damaged by the wet wind, with black in the white. I sat under the eaves of the corridor, sitting alone under the eaves of the corridor, rain, is it coming? There was no wind, and the heat and humidity were surprisingly hot. Suddenly, very suddenly, the wind suddenly exerted force somewhere. The strong wind suddenly came. The bamboo which was seven meters high was blown by the wind and the branches and leaves of the bamboo almost touched the ground, what a wind. The frozen gray clouds in the sky heard the horn of the charge, galloping forward from south to north, like the Death Squad mobilized before the war. The wind is small, but it brings dark clouds. The rain spots at the beginning are sparse and big, but the adult fingers are thick, only for a while, only for a while, the Tianhe cave passes through the rain line and falls from nine days away. The momentum of all drums is really scary. I sit under the eaves of the corridor and my feet can be moistened to the moisture given by raindrops. A dazzling light followed by the roar of thunder. The rain fell in the direction of ku’er East, ku’er West, ku’er South, ku’er north, sometimes sweeping the earth in rows, sometimes the rain sticks are scattered like bamboo swaying in the wind, and there are sleeping lotuses on the ground without roots, and the petals are gone. Rain is the tears of the sky? Why cry? Is it for those who are blinded by their hearts and are utterly virtuous? Or do you think you are a god in China who can’t control the God and its people in other regions because you are limited in the region? However, don’t you think it’s funny to be shameless but flaunt yourself as a moral fan? The nature of shameless rascals and hooligans in this region often advocates that they are the angels of justice. After hearing this, you will see what they have done. God, are you laughing and crying? A group of foolish people kneeling down under the feet of God the voice of delusion the soul is blocked a group of crazy people barking bloody and violent fear of human lives to give them freedom, democracy and freedom a boiling land as an angel of Justice God said: I am repairing the chastity memorial arch and going to his grandmother’s other domain. Fuck his grandma’s God. Rain is the tears that God laughed and hurt, speaking for other domain’s shameless behavior. How can we shake the cornerstone of our country with the power of staying young. The wind is small, and the rain is small. The drizzle clinging to the dusk, like a pair of lovers whispering in a low voice. Lovers whispering is certainly a longing for tomorrow, with dazzling light shining in their eyes. After the dusk, it is not the beginning of a new dawn. Dusk is a time for wandering people to come back. Dusk is a waiting moment. The old man is waiting for the son who is out of work, while the children are waiting for the return of their parents. Lovers are waiting for lovers, wives are waiting for husbands and husbands are waiting for wives, and the lights in front of the door are waiting for tourists who are tired to return. After dusk, the warmth was revealed everywhere. On the knees of the old man, on the dining table of the House, the couple on the bed, and the swallow perched along the eaves. Every story and every hope continued in a dark corner. The departure in the morning is just to decorate the reunion in the dusk. The chicken didn’t return to its nest, looking for insects leisurely on a lawn. The old cow mooed and called the calf. Looking back in five steps, the calf looked around and stopped curiously. The Village at dusk was peaceful and peaceful. A child saw Grandma’s Morning Glory coming back, and ran towards her door from afar and cheered: Grandma gave you peaches, which mom bought. Grandma smiled happily on her face, stroking the hands of the child and saying: Grandma doesn’t eat, but she does. Called Mingming’s child, stubbornly entangled grandma: No, mom said she would give you food. Grandma took the peach, and the child’s face instantly bloomed like a lotus, swaying in the gentle wind and drizzle. Sunrise in the east and rain in the West, the road is ruthless but affectionate. The sky here is still sparse and falling rain Silk. The sky in the West is as clear as the sea. The afterglow of the sunset is scattered and lashed. The glow of the sunset penetrates the rain curtain and the silk rain is coated with gold, shining as auspicious light shines on the sky, with wonderful scenery and prosperity. The peaceful village is constantly changing with new features, standing for thousands of years and thousands of years. It was drizzle at dusk, smoke from the village, children’s excitement and impetuousness, adults’ whispers, and the dusk was hidden in the dark night, playing the melody of heaven and earth. 2014.6.26

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