Bruno
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| | Sunflower lost in 1890 (19th Dec 22 at 1:39am UTC) | | | But I asked my sister,digital interactive whiteboard, "Do you know how to find the witch?"? My home is beside the hillside. There are scattered graves on the hillside. There is also a small strange house,smartboards for business, which is covered with wine-red creepers. When there is wind, the whole house is like a strong heart exposed outside the body. I often see the woman in black go in. Her eyes were dark and bloodshot like a red filament. It was her only ornament. That day was a blue morning. The dew hit my hair and fell in a swaying oval vortex. They're together. I saw their simple lives, touch screen interactive whiteboard ,smart board whiteboard, their frequent reunions, their quiet bonds with one another. I often see the wandering and reunion of other things. I don't want to feel satisfied. I looked up and felt the sun was far away this time. The day is always longer than the priest's eulogy on the hillside. People are dead. Coffins go up the hill. I see flowers, cold and gloomy. The dead are always sacrificed with some flowers. I wonder if they can only sleep in the pain of those flowers? The flowers were cut off. Turquoise blood gushed from the prostrate stems. People hold flowers in their hands, and the flowers are very painful. She couldn't lie down for a while. Her blood covered the man's fingers, clearer than the tears that flowed from his empty eye sockets. I have a lot of time to wonder if I want to die like this. Stand, watch, and bleed nothingness. The first time the flower left the ground,digital touch screen board, it came to see a death, and then it died in the death of others. Everything was smooth and plain, and the flower came to a rest of life. The dead flower who stands has to listen to the man who always wears a black robe. I turned my head away and couldn't bear to look at the dying flower again. hsdsmartboard.com | |
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