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					Stories
  I do not know how many times, we love how the
He loves me, he said, I believe. Like all lovers, we have made over vows, also thought
of a better future ... ... Still, there is a ray trace of grief, hidden between us invisible, or,
I'm too sensitive, because he did not care . He loved his favorite things to
do, but I always wait for something called spent one minute, one second. He, after all,
and I am not a world of two people. I love brilliant, perhaps too young, perhaps
because too much love him. But he too did not care I love every hint, or would like
dandelion nostalgia as each piece of land. Young love is the game. The eyes of our
great love for people is nonsense, is impulsive, is wrong. I do not believe, but perhaps
that is the case. Who told God-given rights of men and women are different. Our
cuddly, we accompany each other intimately, was originally a pure love between us,
are you resigned to nothing, are you looked with a strange eye view, we are not
always a child, our way, This walk is not accidental. Love it cherish the young, or at
least very pure. Great people then it's no love love will continue for
centuries ah, that is full of lust, then filled with the smell of money, it is full of
enjoyment of love, is the real cause vomiting. However, we do not curse, but With the
mentality of spectators to pity you, to gossip to you, to hide you.
  My dear, I do not blame you, blame society, no longer clean. We no longer suitable
for pure, and can not be changed, only adapted. This is the principle that the
community will not be around, now we do in society?
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