You and I ...

The trip is the trip anyway. Although I and it lived in the belief throughout the three days, but the result is still desperate. On the way back, I am a party, it's a party, both looking out the door of the car. The fields along the road's 5 pm as well as virtual. Occasionally, the smoke dunes quietly spills out from the village, burning. I dare you not to look on the face of it, could you not ask. Suddenly, there is something inside the insurgent, stretch, stretch. Perhaps there is a sense of sharing. Perhaps, I am also thinking of the woman that I love. Choke nghèn feeling also found every time you don't earn. And, remember the devastating every time I didn't go back to her room away from me a little bit.

Fields hugging the road has ever raised my dreams. When I have to define love. Bright wrote a letter not sent. Flip Flip away the lunch that photo that I did it seemingly faded because I look more. Which, still remember could not stand. Afternoon, sitting thinking how to pass a milestone to look forward to the home. The day would not see me, in me, something that insurgent, almost suffocating.  The gesture which I still for the surrender of the twenties is the slender fingers, gently, once brought up the daisies on the same shirt I still to be set and said very small: "like this, you look too seriously". Now, I wear a jacket or install. Just occasionally, real, put his hand on the same. Very strange is seen choking where the chest.  I felt a wave of insurgent movement, indeed my chest became a sensitive instrument, worthy country music ensemble. Sometimes I have this feeling and I also believe that it is impossible to reverse the aura announced the accession of something magnificent and marvelous beyond my dreams. All as a Violin solo in the night, awoke the whole neighborhood.=