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The slenThe slender pointer ticder pointer tic
The slender pointer ticks, one second, two seconds, three seconds of silent time
exposed to the dry air, followed by weathering, disappearing. If you turn your
head and go backwards, you will find that the youth is getting longer and
longer, but the alarm clock that has gone farther and farther has already rang,
raising the hand and pressing the switch, then rubbing the eyelids Parliament Cigarettes. The irritating
music is still repeated over and over again, and the hoarse voices of the
singers are like this noisy summer, and the hot air of the snoring is higher
than the waves, spreading around. The wind that the fan leaves out is sticking
to the skin, and it is cool, and in the afternoon, it always makes people feel
lazy. Supporting the body to sit up, look at the time I found out that the clock
has turned past three o'clock position, silently watching the deep and shallow
sleep marks, lost. It��s been three years now, I��m not aware of it, but in the
face of the passing time, I have nothing to lose. I am thinking that after half
a year, I am a so-called social person. I am no longer a self-satisfied student.
When I think of it, my heart is unable to reach myself. The mature and
indifferent heart will ache. After insisting on the identity of more than ten
years, this is no longer the case. The world will put a new label on me and
start a new journey. In my heart, there will be a faint sorrow called nostalgia,
just like Eve can��t stand Satan. The temptation to steal the forbidden fruit,
after satisfying the desire, but suddenly the guilty feeling pulls the heart,
the feeling that the painful youth stays with someone, accompanying his growth,
leaving or moving or Inspiring memories remind him to embark on his own life.
When the person fades out and lead radiance, his mission is about to end. He
wave his hand and leave our life without a cloud. . "Things go to the clothes Marlboro Red, deep possession and
name", like a happy knight, leaving only Xiao Xiao's back. The back of youth is
gradually drifting away, and I desperately want to grasp the memories of the
yellowing, which is fearful that it will turn into a dust if it is not careful.
I admit that I am a nostalgic person Cheap Cigarettes. In the unspoken
night, in the clear afternoon, I always spread out the shredded memories. I have
reviewed it over and over again to see what I wrote before. I am also so
ignorant and fluent. When I saw the wonderful place, I couldn��t help but smile.
Every time I look through memories, it is a kind of satisfaction and fortune. I
am glad that I have left a trace of something that can be traced to my youth. It
will not be too pale and weak, but after the satisfaction, it will not be
marginal. Falling and sentimental. Once in my youth, in the rush of time, the
rapid retreat, we gradually become servants, riddled with holes, once the tender
face, can withstand the years of invasion? Blur and light, I had to wave my hand
to say goodbye to all kinds of personnel, rushing into my life, and actually
printing it in my memory Newport
, becoming part of each other, and the old time will be meticulous. On
the eve of the class, the crowded bathroom, quiet in the afternoon, such as the
dormitory of the nursing home, tired of a day of sleep, comfortable, lazy, wake
up in the morning, comrades, sharp hair, downstairs like a girl swaying willow
branches Marlboro
, squinting The zebra crossing of the playground, the crowd of people in
the physical education class, the school building with a hint of European style,
every meal is full of cooking stoves, the spicy skewers always sway my mind, and
the total weekend It��s a crowded school gate, how many laughs and laughs in the
bus driving in the black smoke... These things will always stay in a corner of
memory, and I don��t know how long I haven��t scoured my life, I don��t know.
How long have I not practiced the words, what I used to do most. Every time I
hear a melody that is familiar but unfamiliar to the melody, I often find a
short and green sentence. I often meet the familiar silhouette and can't name
the other person. I have to silently put down the lost hand and be speechless.
Every now and then, I can feel my own trembling, shaking off a weathered memory,
losing the tree that he and your time are really like a knife, full of
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