2021 Mountain west men’s basketball champions San Diego State

Not until now can we clear our hearts to feel that fragile and very poetic rain. Yet when we meet again, we still find it flustered and uneasy! The January rain and dust are not as noisy as the summer rains, nor as bleak as the wet rain. The rain does not become a drop so that it can roll like dewdrops hanging on flower branches and leaf edges. Rain flew loose, long, smooth, stranded strands, lingering like weaving sky silk. Rain and dust about tolerance to shower all things. The rain gently awakens the buds, the buds are asleep in the rough bark. Rain is the inspiration to arouse so many emotions, human love. Is it possible that when the sky and the sky meet the small raindrops, they also become love!The January rain and dust were not hopeless enough to be heard. Rain is very quiet, very quiet! Heavy rain, gentle and very deep. It is only possible to immerse in the rain, in the rain and with the rain, let the rain kiss on the hair, ears, face, let the tiny particles of dust playfully wet the wings, we can feel the melody. of spring. January's rain and dust reminds us of the old days of love. Every time I go anywhere, my mother often tells me to put on a hat, lest it get wet, but I don't listen to the words of playing with the rain. The cold, cool feeling makes us enjoy. But with my mother, the rain was so heavy and annoying. Because in those days, she was busy with the sticky door, she had to let the clothes dry forever. At that time, she just wished the rains would rain, it would rain hard for a while, like that shower. Well yes, sometimes like that our shirt won't get wet, because we will be more alert, we will bring raincoats, umbrellas or sit at home waiting for the rain to stop. Not like dust, rain and nothing, as light as a breath. Yet I still love the rain very much! Because of that, we can sit on the side of my mother's back, hold out my cold hands to heat the fire and put it on my cheeks to breathe. Going under the dust of January, we can see that spring is still the same but spring is very new. Strange peace and serenity. I wish I was still young to let the spring rain flap, bathe like young shoots just to sprout green
The January rain and dust are not as noisy as the summer rains, nor as bleak as the wet rain. The rain does not become a drop so that it can roll like dewdrops hanging on flower branches and leaf edges. Rain flew loose, long, smooth, stranded strands, lingering like weaving sky silk. Rain and dust about tolerance to shower all things. The rain gently awakens the buds, the buds are asleep in the rough bark. Rain is the inspiration to arouse so many emotions, human love. Is it possible to listen to the rain and dust in January, when it comes to handing over a small rainfall. Rain is very quiet, very quiet! Heavy rain, gentle and very deep. It is only possible to immerse in the rain, in the rain and with the rain, let the rain kiss on the hair, ears, face, let the tiny particles of dust playfully wet the wings, we can feel the melody. of spring.January's rain and dust reminds us of the old days of love. Every time I go anywhere, my mother often tells me to put on a hat, lest it get wet, but I don't listen to the words of playing with the rain. The cold, cool feeling makes us enjoy. But with my mother, the rain was so heavy and annoying. Because in those days, she was busy with the sticky door, she had to let the clothes dry forever. At that time, she just wished the rains would rain, it would rain hard for a while, like that shower. Well yes, sometimes like that our shirt won't get wet, because we will be more alert, we will bring raincoats, umbrellas or sit at home waiting for the rain to stop. Not like dust, rain and nothing, as light as a breath. Yet I still love the rain very much! Because of that, we can sit on the side of my mother's back, hold out my cold hands to heat the fire and put it on my cheeks to breathe. Going under the dust of January, we can see that spring is still the same but spring is very new. Strange peace and serenity. I wish I was still young to let the spring rain flap, bathe like young buds just to sprout green!






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