Do you remember, in the past, when we have a secondary school, every time I have a miserable mind. Each essay is written in two hours that when inspiration refers to. Our classroom has glass doors towards the road. Sitting in the class looked through the tower of the other church, low after the positive, empty poetry. Sometimes I break my finger before the paper page, then don't know where, inspiration suddenly rushed to, I broke into paperwork, without drafting, my post just dotted Lastly at the last minimeters
.0: 00/3: 46 South Southern is an old story that I have a lot of opportunities to repeat. You know it, the day has passed very quickly, I haven't found me mature, my hair is silver. The day before, his old meeting, listening to me to say that everyone laughed but no one protested
Those people, someone who knows you, some people, but like me, all are female students. We invite each other to the restaurant, call the delicious food, with a few cans of gold beer. But instead of cutting up to the table to do business like the number of people around, we bunched the story in the past and laughed, laughing a lot of eyes. Melting, light beer, but everyone feels gentle and funny like Tet. It's clear that I don't know how to tell you to listen. Someone who remembers how to remind yourself from building a new school, the new trees planted, the stalks like the youngest finger, and the branches were broken as a baby hair growing slowly. The story of the daughters who are taken care of thoroughly in the four high fence walls is a curiosity for the boys in the city. It's not about Nha Trang, you don't know that the tiny tiny poplars are now Higher than two-story fields. Both a ramble forest shocked in the yard but watching the school is no longer romantic because of the lack of shadow of our white dresses. Now, it's a middle school
Once I returned to the parent meeting for a daughter, I happened to enter the classroom to study 12th grade, sitting back in my old year. I was nervous to see my name carved on the corner of the table. What do I see? It is magic. How many years have passed, how much changes instead of life is constantly shifting, but the old table is still lies there, still my name intact. There was something that faded because the table face was also worn away by time. I'm tearful because I'm touched, if you are, do you cry? I'm a teary child, now it's no different. Yesterday, my daughter called told him to graduate without notifying me. Children are now dynamic, good at Jiang, but are not attentive by us. It didn't know if I waited until the day was invited to school, watching it brilliantly in a sheathed shirt. Maybe I cried, but that were happy water drops, not because I felt like now. I like to get more rest. Afternoon afternoon, our couple often put each other a round of sea. The pristine, rustic road we are smaller and more beautiful now, a much gorgeous. Many people like us, for cars to run slowly to see the road with lots of yellow, red, purple and blue colors of grass and means of cropped carefully. And the beach where we are old or invited each other every time no lessons are now very close to the shore. I have the feeling that just a long step is to reach the cattle sandy beach, smooth. Time to pass, the sea was involved so she was near the mainland as the old pearl lesson, or because we were big so I looked at something small, close? So, please arrange work, self Reward for me a little time to go home like a tourist, as a child goes away from visiting the house. We will sit together reviewing old memories. I'm sure you will see the meaningless time because the school is still there, the roads are still there. Still blue sea, blue sky. Still yellow sand and the head of silver waves. A lot of things I want you to know more about my hometown. But my inspirational inspiration was about. Go home, next week, next month ... the rainy season comes there. Luu Cam Van . Dịch vụ:
Thiết kế website,
quảng cáo google,
đăng ký website bộ công thương uy tín
