After breaking up his first love, to avoid the torment pain, I train my skills … forgot to live peacefully. I do not remember the tiny school on the old castle as beautiful as he had to go to school, to open the season shy of the first year third grade
I dreaming School Grounds , only one green ball, a water reference ancient apricot cool enough to cover the vast courtyard, with lots of bicycles, motorcycles around the building. Projector apricot petals water with thousands of tiny scattered throughout the four seasons flavor shine in every corner of flying the small classroom.
Infiltration drainage is to the last year of high school grades school. In the last festival party, class president defined the girls must turn to sing, even just a sentence … And that guy on the road … volunteers shall be counted as official confession!
In turn, I hastily stood up, not from the introduction to “be” one road, I sang a consecutive sentence in the article as wing cauldron flying … he did a quick withdrawal of the harmonica blowing as buffering the cheers of friends cheer. Remnants near the party, he sat next to the road hugged me, guitar and sing her whole song. I do not know why at that elusive perspective I have felt from the depths of his eyes, knowing my heart will forever forget!
Leaving school grounds, walked out of the shade aroma of apricot and water reference, my real life to look sober, cold. Over the years, I was pleased with his choice.
Very small tripod you steamy, romantic, occasionally calling on midnight of the morning, his voice saturated with tears: “I dreamed that T” or “… see X”, the Greater shadow first love, broke up without saying I love you, just wind clouds, thanks to music poems convey sadness posts.
Now I should spare the flower. Small courtyard full color blue purple red yellow fun. One day the door opened, the aroma rushed into the small room … The fragrance of the month, day dreaming great disturbance to the ring vibrations of life. End of anger, aquatic plants have shown flowering apricot …
It should be forgotten for years, yet this morning apricot scent projector had water on the ferry … nostalgia. Nostalgia suddenly erupted violently. In the fragrance of her old days, have a son hugging road begins to sing …