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ble time, I remembered th
48 Beiträge - Neuling
On the opposite side of the tall building, there is an escalator on the roof of an old-fashioned house. There is no escalator, so it is very dangerous and weird for the old man to sit there alone. In the early morning after the fall, the sky was dark and the sky was flying with faint rain. Such an old man sat in the cold wind with a crutches on his hand and a thin puppy on his feet. It was a bleak feeling. I fixed him in the office for a long time, and then I felt that something cold and quietly fell from my eyes. He sat for so long, and he always looked blank. Yes, I can't know what he is thinking about, and there are often incredible thoughts and behaviors. Where is his children going? I know that he is sitting on the top of such a high building Cheap Cigarettes. I don��t know when it started. This time, my heart has been followed by a little bit of old age, so that when I see what I will see, my sentiment will be swept away. Some people say that old people are similar to children every day, and they need real love. In fact, the little children have always been indifferent to the love that adults have given him. When love is flooded, there is no feeling, and everything is taken for granted. But the old people are different, they are counting on, but it is a little warmth in the details. The desire is so shabby, but often it is not easy to get. These years, they are getting old and little in front of my eyes. For the time, I am very helpless. I know that my thin hands can't stop anything anyway. Time, it makes me so sad, and makes me cherish it so much. I began to fall in love with the days around them. My heart is becoming more sensitive day by day. Yes, no one in the world can give me pure and unselfishly as they are. I never refused to travel. I kept myself in the place where they were in sight. The years passed, and they became another pair of children I was deeply concerned about. She always blames him before us. Blame him for not being hygienic, blame him for knowing thrift Wholesale Cigarettes, water is not willing to use more, his face can not be cleaned, clothes worn for many days still lie to her is only worn yesterday. She said, how long was his yesterday, the socks were worn yesterday, the hair was washed yesterday, and the clothes were changed yesterday. You see, his quilt is so bad. I comforted her, it doesn't matter, Dad is a bit confused now. She said that your father is still stingy and the money is not for me. I smiled, and my mother is sometimes very childish. I said, Dad, if he spends money, he is not willing to spend it, saying that he wants to save it, and he will not show it to me. She always gets more and more angry. Then he has something to do. He said that it is easy to use it when he is old. I don��t have a retirement salary. She sighed as she said. My dad is very good, he thinks for you. I smiled and said to her. I know that he is thinking for me, but I am not happy now, it is boring. She said and was angry again. You have no money, I have it. I comforted her. I don't want to use your money. Besides, you have no money. Her eyes are helpless. Every time, just go to their side, always listen to a mother who blames Dad��s words Marlboro Red. I sat quietly in the room, watching him seem to be busy in and outs really old, no matter where he is sitting, he will be trapped from time to time, and I am very worried. I will go over and gently pat him on the shoulder to wake him up, saying, Dad, go to the room for a while, don't cool. He looked up at me with a sly look, a little embarrassed, explaining that when I didn't sleep, I closed my eyes and raised my mind. I smiled and took the clothes and gave him a ride. His eyes passed over his hair, and there was a sudden whiteness. I looked at the pain, and I thought, Dad was only seventy... What a terrible time, I remembered the snow cake that he bought for me many years ago. The favorite snack in memory. Is the age disappearing like that? Thin slices, the entrance is instant, the traces can not be found, the residual, only the sweetness between the lips and teeth, forever, in the depths of memory
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