I called the park home

All are like a village south of sugar cane, sweet twist of chewing ... but ... for me, the concept of home is not only a village embraced by mountains, the sound of the whip cattle, chickens cry resounded through the valley deep in my bone marrow has long been .
Memory on the front of the field is always the sunny dung steaming for home ... ... I can always smell the breath of hers.
... ...
Spring sunlight spilled like gold in the warm rain poured down on the land.
In fact, the sun is gone last night, I threw a black blanket to it, and the sun went black after a whispered dream quilt, and when I wake up when I woke up before the sun already, come ... ...
Country is my fairy tale! Fairy tale, I was nagging me the happiness of childhood, like the mouth, like coffee, tea with a rich hearty, and my heart is like drinking red wine as intoxicating. I followed the memories back home from the university campus, like a trip, but I'm just one of the tourists.
Day of roaming, which began the day a good ... ... the beauty of villages in the memory is so beautiful and so simple, full-bodied; the United States was not hidden as selfless, honorable; beautiful and so pure and magnanimous. Rape mountains and hills turn to gold upon the ground, next to come from the flower cluster, I had to breath in the beauty of life, bright smile flower heart of my fatigue, I can not help moving their faces close to listen carefully to their flowers to bloom , the voice of growth in the sun, as the crisp clear-cut. I have some dizziness, just as the hometown of my Soul.


laser marking machineSEO ServicesInteractive WhiteboardJuniors ClothingParty Dresses|Juniors Clothing|