Summer

The sky in the dream still feels lonely, and the thoughts of the storm, the flute of the storm, slightly swayed in the wind, and the sound of the body is reminiscent of the melancholy under the long road, the breath is pure, and the posture remains unchanged in the silent city.

Staying in the memory of the summer from a distance repeatedly measured off the slopes and rivers leaving the sky and starlight life leisurely only the time difference pride is covered with eyes, the years are really incomparable and the night is this lost tunnel. It spy on all the ashes you can't Approaching

Summer

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