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Finding love of writing fiction in the

moonlight flower funeral2010-04-01 04:11:32 +0000 #1
seems to be under the 2008 ....
ツ Violet Snow Sakura Iraq 〆 い2010-04-01 04:15:35 +0000 #2
soul, where different people have a different interpretation. Their exports - those who only put together Caibei find the difference between what looks strange and terrible - do not know why, I will use the horrible word, perhaps that difference beyond my imagination.

So, for a similar appearance, there are many different quality.

Those who look to be classified as the same person, in fact, have a completely different soul.

Lonely, anxious, gloomy, bleak, simple, complicated ..... well I like elegance.

However, we must understand: there are many more hidden in essence, outside the narrative, in other words, outside of the expression.

Other than the disclosure.

Who also can not imagine other people where talking about; they only talk against their own painting.

Their eyes, to only see their own things to see.

If you sent them the order of the paintings look a little change, this book is a vastly different.

But those lonely souls still standing there, looked at the road leading to the reality.

My favorite is the speed "cable" career, David Grossman. Painting is a man, carrying a suitcase - it is a thick book. Two thirds of the gray sky, a little far from the tree shadow, one third of the road. He walked on the road.

Forgot to say, these stories are very short, two pages, but also the longest. Incidentally, this is the longest one. I do not have time to play it all down, what part of the excerpt, can only display a kind of incomplete. But I was willing to play out at the beginning and the end of:

At first glance, my life is quite unusual, in fact, I like the model according to their own lives, can be said to be stereotyped.

I go through the Town and Country, never again the same place two nights. I like the casual in the evening to a place where nobody knew me, no one knows I want to do here what the next day.

I silently wandering the streets, looking for a suitable place for me to find a location. I let people talk about me as much as possible, even the most trivial matter not to be related. I try not to look at other people, because people often due to eye contact, while others marked dealings.


I have mentioned: not in the same place, that is, show me the place. I can not be such a city or village more than a minute, where people flock to me, want to see my cable show.

Very good here, just in between the two villages. Yesterday, the village behind me, I will not go back, the next village is also invisible.

Now I am alone. Breeze blowing.

So the soul of elegance, in essence, is lonely.

They're gone on the road, always a man.

But sometimes, we need comfort, need warmth, need light. Not from their own - sometimes it just how tired and fatigue, to come from outside us.

There is this need, we or embrace the reality of the body, or embrace a true soul.

We need not all be met, at least no longer feel hungry.



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