A pen, a stack of paper, a person, a lamp, a cigarette. In a person's room there is a person's loneliness. The loneliness accompanied by the driving smoke filled a small room and slowly filled every corner of the room. There was a little cold and damp smell in the house. Under the influence of cigarettes, they no longer know where to go. Perhaps smoke from the burning cigarettes has already killed them all at the moment of the emission. There is no drowsiness, it seems that if you want to think of something, write something, record something, you also have to talk about something. The thoughts wandered involuntarily [url=vipusacigarettes.com]Cigarettes For Sale[/url], the tip of the pen followed the footsteps of the thoughts, and the moment the tip of the pen was drawn on a piece of unfolded white paper, the sudden movement of the pen tip on white paper suddenly felt that his right hand holding the pen unnaturally shook, shook, The original thought trembles. Chaos, everything is chaos. What should I write? Just want to record something? Is it sad or beautiful? Is it to remember the lost youth? Or the future of graffiti fantasy? Disorganized, all the chaotic eyebrows in chaotic thinking, locked together with the tension of the facial spasm, in front of the eyebrows, felt a fear. It seems to see a sharp arrow from the string, a sharp arrow, with the sound of puncturing the air, flying over from the front. Dodge, just avoid! The body could do nothing but a cold, a kind of sorrow spread throughout the body. When it was time for fear, there was a burning pain in his fingers, and it was this sudden pain that drew a person whose mind was in the darkness of a world full of panic. It turned out that the cigarette with his left hand had reached the end. Look down at the shiny paper torn to pieces by your own chaos. The previous stretched gesture has quietly disappeared. There are only two words "baby" in the middle of the paper. The burning pain causes the confused thinking to go into this quiet night Reality. Yes, the two words written on the paper unintentionally --- "baby". Is there anything more important than these two words at this time, is it more worth thinking, nostalgia and memory? Continue to light a cigarette! Under the dazzling lights, the sparks from the cigarette butts seemed dim and dull. Only the rising smoke pipe seemed so natural and quiet, slowly rising into the air without worry, and slowly spreading across the desk. Why? Why do you feel that loneliness in front of you is a lost "joy"? Who dominates all this? Who makes a lonely night enjoy the loneliness of a person? It is fate, everything is a fateful event. Why did Zeng have the energy and mood of the beautiful memories to appreciate the desolation after the burning of cigarettes? Everything has changed, and the original perfection has already become a saga. Just like the cigarette in this hand, while burning the smoke that can give the mind [url=vipusacigarettes.com]Cigarettes Online[/url], it also gradually became incomplete and turned into ashes in the flickering fireworks. The only thing left at this moment, the only thing that stays in the depths of memory and can make you restless on such a late night, are the two words: "Baby", and an undying commitment that comes with those two words [url=buyusacigarettes.com]Marlboro Red[/url]. Correct! What I will never forget is the promise of immortality. Under the promise of immortality, there is also an immortal responsibility and a beautiful pursuit. What else cannot be left in a person's world? The only thing you can't give up is the promise you once gave. Men, to bear the burden of their own commitment, are the responsibility. Even if everything is like a burning cigarette trumpet in your hand, as long as the spark does not go out, do not give up. No reason, just for sincerity, passion and perseverance and courage before lighting the cigarette. The lonely mind is like a wild horse running away, running wild in the darkness of a person, accompanied by his own, a burning butt. If you look at the cigarettes in your hand, there is almost no spark. It's time to sleep, the memory stays here. Put down the pen, put out the smoke, closed the door, turned off the light...
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