Godzilla Pew Pew Madafakasa ~ Picturestees Trending Blog

The "ancient" village early foggy, lying dormant beside the rows of ruddy trees, the rain like a haze of smoke covering the undulating red-tiled roofs on the other side of the hedge. Beside the window, one gazed out in the distance, gently swallowed the cold wind in the back of my throat and sipped a few drops of bitterness. Well… For a few days, the Central Highlands was drenched with rains, small, drizzling rains, day after day. Why are you making a promise to meet sad people with immense compassion? I am lonely, the plateau is agonizingly seasoned, the wait turns into a slap of the last melodies and then goes down to the grave of youth. I was still wandering looking for the garden of Eden by the windows looking through the new sky, suddenly the road shortened, playing with a corner of my own life ... We were drifting on fate with fateful relationships. predestined people, encounters, relationships, pain. Then one day we will realize that we are no longer sad with the winds passing through our own lives, we forget not only one person but also many other images. But, how to leave is decided by us, peaceful or stormy apart, separated by no need for each other or just a matter of emotional selfishness? Is the man's ego too big, or because the woman's sensitivity makes the sense of perception suddenly become too far-fetched, isn't that too indifferent? I'm not sad because of the storm on the zero side. The person is a fragile wind, the way I return has clear blue sunlight, a cloudy cloud, a gentle flower bud mixed with a bit of quiet bass, just that much is enough for me to smile. There are days of absentmindedness sitting in front of the dark night, parallel with depressing thoughts, naturally we remember, remember that certain years are far away, unconsciously recuperating about a figure and Yesterday's echo ... Yesterday, the rain had a crack of nostalgia and regret, there was a vague distant girl, I sat and listened to a couple of three blatant stories of the city, looking at some pictures of a certain peaceful corner ... Yesterday, there were lazy mornings listening to the rain, there were thoughts that were not yet completely dry, flowing freely along the clear water pouring down from the porch. . Yesterday was sad, happy, choked and sobbed ... And yesterday of tomorrow, what do we have? Or is it simply a mess that burns my soul on endless nights? Probably not, there is still a time-streaked heart in the secrets of the first love, probably a few nihilistic thoughts that do not make people's hearts even more troubled. It will still be a smile, but perhaps that smile is made up of a mixture of countless emotions, not necessarily happy, but certainly not sad! Life draws us into crossroads no one waits for, how can we keep a person from a peaceful place? I am like a traveling traveler who sleeps on the journey of old feelings, you are a wind of wandering in search of a blue sky, with uneven wings and a gentle fragrance. We stood on the threshold of days apart, sang the last love song that was hazy like a smoke, sending you a love poems to close your dreams of the days of traveling, of the spring of youth, of the flower paths. The grass passed passionately across the autumn fields and returned to the gentle and loving little things. We walked past each other's lives, throwing each other a mess filled with pity and confusion. His heart was still disgusted with many years of unorganized order in his heart, now a locker filled with the turn of a stranger's head. Every minute that passes is the past of tomorrow, is life long enough for us to coolly walk and step forward? The rain is so much that the path is dark, and the clouds spread on the sky dome, creating a mesmerizing silver sheen. I wonder if in the midst of this beautiful, magical and wonderfully pure sky, do you still miss the moons at night? And when you return to the station to wait for peace and smooth dates like waves, do you remember a filthy corridor traveler who loves dusty roads? On the lonely and lonely roads, we move our feet toward the ragged moss imprinted with the painful traces of the month, the day, of the season where only rain comes in the eye. Even though the arid fibers are still haughtily raising their heads when the afternoon turns off, isn't that the most beautiful thing of life? If you want a flower, I can only tell you the adventure story of the fairytale seasons of wildflowers. The luggage of the stray soul is nothing but tireless feet and an infinite heart. If you like the generosity of someone else, I love the selfishness of heaven and earth, but compared to one person, it is immense and perfect. In a certain minute when the summer clouds in vain to watch fall, we have seen the figure of a walking person suddenly filled with poetry, is that wrong !? I am a child of the coastal land, have I ever heard of marbles

Godzilla Pew Pew Madafakasa

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