First Thing You See Is That They

Pigeons to sell the home, and I do not know.

Just one afternoon, I went to the balcony without incident and found the cage empty birds go. Ask the mother - the original is already sold a half years.

I like the heart, such as smoke to give birth to some of the sentimental and a bit guilty. I never give it back fed a food, not touching a back their gray feathers, do not even know exactly why they are in a cage at random every day more than keep the ball rolling, do not know why they sent it as often late at night in grass heap of wild birds generally whine sound. Although open the door to the sun, first thing you see is them louis vuitton monogram volupte psyche m93486 gris bleu, but in my life, the conversation has always been no pigeons; in my poetry, has always been the lack of pigeons. I should have taken them on some beautiful names, so they sort of tales of people's aura, or a day in the cool water with some washing again for their feathers, so they will not like me, and suffer because of disgraceful looked up in front of people!

In their eyes, I was a street off, right? Occasionally the door that opened the door to the sun, appeared before them, is a cold face. They may often clouded my sounded, not to speak. I just stand on the balcony a moment, do not look at them, do not look at anything else, just look at the horizon flying piece of wild land, from afar, go the distance of the trail. Where, regardless of whether the pedestrian, can lead my thoughts from afar, to the distance to go - perhaps this time, the pair of close-mouthed creatures are hiding in their cage, looked at me timidly, secretly I understand why so often, right?

But I ignored, and how many times ah, that two pairs of the poor, black jade-like flashing eyes!

Wind was underway, the weather getting cold, the birds increasingly sparse southern, past all that upset the black magpie, deep in the children's memories. How many dead trees stand windy day Louis Vuitton Wallets, the greater the wind that branch of the garrison angle thin scratch-like sound of the roar of the more crucial it will be sad, stand in the sun grew from the balcony, my tears in the days of wind flashes.