Bitte als erstes anklicken, danke. » At night, the long-sleeve

At night, the long-sleeved shirt has been covered with ink, accompanied by a burst of spring and rain. The spring rain of the pattering caressed the flowers Cheap Cigarettes Usa Free Shipping, grass and trees on the campus, and got into my sweet dreams; the spring rain of the pattering called my thoughts softly, accompanied me to the small village in my hometown and came to my home. The palm tree in the yard looked at the palm tree in the spring rain Buy Newport Cigarettes Wholesale, as if time went back to the time when supplies were scarce Marlboro Cigarettes Free Shipping. People have to eat a donkey is not as convenient as it is now, go directly to the supermarket to buy it, do not have to do it yourself. At that time, people in the village used the palm tree leaves to bundle the scorpions in order to save materials. They took a page of brown leaves, extracted the strongest part of the leaves, towed them into long lines, and wrapped them around the rafters. A blind man is wrapped up. The entire village is only the palm trees planted by the fathers in my yard. As a result, more than a dozen households in the neighborhood took the material and came to the house to get brown leaves. In a short while, the leaves of the trees were picked up. However, not long after, the low stools under the palm trees had a variety of shapes of scorpions. The thick musk carries the fragrance of the brown leaves and overflows the yard. It seems that the far and far nose is still lingering with this scent, that is, in the musk of the full house, the little girl who is still in the middle of her is her. My mother came to Grandpa and Grandma to come home. The arrival of the little girl, grandfather, grandmother's life seems to have changed nothing, it seems to change a lot, for example, when you don't have to work in the field, the little girl's grandfather is not alone in the bamboo rocking chair in the lobby, he More or less will tell the little girl about her old past, or the mythical story that his grandfather told him when he was a child. The little girl always listens to the gods, and the big eyes flicker and flash, and the little mouth always asks questions that can't be answered. However, more often, the little girl��s grandfather will move the family��s old-fashioned and lacquered Eight Immortals tables and chairs from the room to the palm trees in the yard and take them out of the cabinet. A large stack of straw paper, pick up the pen to teach the little girl to write. The yellowed grass paper and the few rays of sunlight scattered on the palm trees, accompanied by the coolness of the girl��s grandmother��s fan made from the leaves of the palm tree, seemed to be as if the time had stopped. For example, when the night falls in the summer, the family no longer enters the house after eating the meal, but sits under the palm tree in the yard with a long, mottled stool on the board. Still shaking the brown leaf fan, to comfort himself in the daytime non-stop work. More often, the little girl��s grandfather silently swallowed the smoke from the burning of tobacco; the little girl��s grandmother sat there, and then whispered about the seedlings in the fields and the poultry outside the courtyard... from time to time. The girl's grandfather promised a few voices; the little girl, sitting next to herself, fiddled with the brown leaves pulled from the palm tree above her head, and folded it into small things like little stars. Not far away, the fragrance of the rice flower filled the yard, and occasionally a few whispers of insects. In the yard, two old and one young, accompanied by the Mantianxing River, in the rustling of the brown wind shaking in the evening breeze, in the intermittent fan of the old man, the sultry summer night is blowing in the fan The wind has passed the present, under the palm tree, the girl gradually turned from a little girl to a big girl, and grandfather and grandmother slowly changed from the old man to the old man. Later, the two ugly little stools under the palm trees will be empty one at a time. One is still the old man sitting, silently smoking a cigarette, a wind that only sweeps across the bench. After each dinner, the old man sat on the low stool under the palm tree, and the broad-eyed palm tree wrapped the old man completely in his shadow. The old man sat in the darkness that could not be opened Newport Carton Cigarettes, as if he was more silent than before Super Cheap Cigarette. He couldn��t move, like the stone lion that had been pondering for many years in the village. Later, the little girl turned into the present, leaving the familiar home, leaving the familiar palm tree and coming to college. Later, the old man who loves to smoke is also leaving the girl. He went to a place where the little girl didn��t know. He couldn��t find the night anymore. Deep, the palm tree in the yard was buried in the depths of the dream. In the depths, but the vague memory is always anxious, and I can't find the appearance of it at that time.