Nostalgia for the winter night wool in the dreams of the disturbances, the mouth of the dream and cry again when the pictures of the old suddenly re-matched.0 of the year. / Inton in the country without winter, sometimes I find myself craving for the cold to numb, every season, looking forward to a gray outdoor, wearing a thick cotton shirt with a cold and feeling the cold Rebight, remember to remember the winter every night wool into the dreams of the disturbances, the mouth of the dream and cry again when the pictures of the old suddenly reappeared. The skin shape is thin in the wall on the shadow of the wall is tilted, a mighty breaking into the room of the blanket for the perfect baby to sleep early tomorrow. Soon woke up to see clothes, gloves and boots Nein side at the end of the bed, just piced, the feet put in was warm, then hurriedly ran down the kitchen is glowing with sticky rice, cooked, cooked cassava fragrant
. On the side of the bamboo, the whole family gathered together, happy and peaceful to the winter nostalgia on a quiet countryside, the winter field with root fiber, dry soil block waiting for the fleet season , a few white stork rings mending the feeding, and the padded paddies are beans on the eucalyptus, black, as if to say something every time I see the person passing again. I'm small, find some land , Swinging his hand throwing up, the flock of frightened flew away after the client's laugh. The winter field printed the memories of pink pink fire burning from crumbs, dry and aromatic straw of corn, potato
Flame on the streaks of blushing with cheeks, the mouth of his mouth, his mouth, his eyes smiled at all, winds and eyes. Hair hooe Flocks of copper are jokes. What is your childhood anything more fun and happier when living in my friends and countless arms are worried about the magic second. The old poverty roof has a wooden bed with the mother's mother lying up and still feels empty. The light fried blanket does not cover the cold wind on a blowing path. Smooth mattresses, rustling crafted, lie in the night I heard the rice heavily around, incense mud from the fields and hard sweat and hard sweat hard to create. Flaming, in the tray there is nothing but the dry fish Rim is salty and a few vegetables and vegetables. Sometimes only a pot of lighters, the mother cooks up so salty. Hot rice bowls out, scooping a spoon of warehouse with lighters, salty taste, fat beolated, fragrant Bui Bui of a bit of meat only, onion and fish sauce kept mixing with ecstatic food. And when I officially eat a swap store, I realized my hobby every time I just came to eat warehouse with hot rice
To be in the country without winter, I borrowed, craving and remember The taste of homeland has absorbed from the old people. Also, make a bowl of warehouses like the old mother cooked, but because there was no winter so it couldn't be reached. Night to a person, rolling over, remembering the countryside to see the smell of lighters in the Family party old. The smelling smells, the smell of his mother, and the smell of childhood gets up in the subconscious. Wantance to return to your home country in the middle of the winter ... the winter nostalgia about the nights of the mother, the bones that keep the wind back to the wind is to hurt, love mother but don't know what to do. Night and in the sound of the sigh was his mother's sigh. Mom as a stork wiped in the night to earn each piece to take care of the man, raising her into a person. Then when the man rolled away, she was still alone. When I was sick, helpless impotence couldn't go back, myself wondered in this life because of anything? Just follow the career list but forget yourself, your family. Winter helps me realize that you need to live slowly, spend time with your mother, for more loved ones. . Dịch vụ:
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