Das Forum » After dinner, the night ha

After dinner, the night has just arrived. There was a faint sleepiness Newport Cigarettes, but I didn't want to sleep, and I didn't bother to read books. Then I came to the street outside. After all, there are not many opportunities for us in the book Cigarettes Online. In the streets of the night, I lost the hustle and bustle of the day and it was very quiet. A glimpse of the light wind, blowing off the sleepiness of the cockroach. The body and mind feel extraordinarily refreshed, and there is a kind of relaxed and cozy in the classroom that has never been seen before. It is really comfortable. In the dark night, there are no bustling crowds, no vehicles coming and going, only this quiet night, only the night. Of course, there is also a crescent moonlight that hangs high in the sky and the night sky. The street is as bright as daylight, and even the couplets on both sides of the store are clearly visible. The wicker that flutters in the wind, the soft figure, is like a dancer dancing in a dance dress, and the wind caressing the snoring of the leaves, which became an indispensable accompaniment. The grass in the garden, paddling high toes, also beat the rhythm with this rhythm, and played the night symphony with the leaves of the wind. In the distant mountains, there were occasional sounds of crisp birds. This made me wonder. Is it because they have nostalgia for a long time because they have nostalgia for this quiet night sky? Is it because they have nostalgia for the new moon that hangs in the night, and from time to time, they send out a few senses that the faint clouds gradually spread out, and the arc of the half-face of the crescent moon became more and more clear. . I can't help but sigh: I don't know what kind of artist is, I can engrave such a perfect arc. I think that Yang Guifei's face in the past is just like this. It's a crescent moon, curved like a sickle Marlboro Gold, transparent Such as jade. Drinking thousands of years of wind and frost, after thousands of years of vicissitudes of life, still unchanged, hanging high in the boundless night sky. Laughing at the world, watching the history of the river. It is no wonder that countless poets have sighed in the sky and pinned the wandering wanderings of their wandering homes and their love for their motherland. Isn't this a sigh of immortality that has been passed down through the ages and immortality? The scattered thin clouds went to the crescent moon, just like a beautiful woman shyly pulling the curtain in front of the window, so that people have some reluctance to darken the night sky, stand alone on the streets Just stop for the snowy new moon.
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