Every day I stepped home in the twilight, crushed it into pieces, and drifted with the wind. Watching them scattered on the treetops, they condensed into pieces of light, and the heart was also stained with tears. I know that my face is just like the people around me, an indifferent, unconcerned, sly expression. This is my biggest memory of the city. Taking the bus to school has become the focus of my life. Once there, I was very tired of it. Until I found out that I was not alone with me every day, there was a tree in the city. The thick branches tell me that it has been here for many years. Somehow, when I looked at the trees used to optimize people's living environment, I actually had a sense of belonging. They are separated from nature and forced to stay in the city. They must be in love with the natural air. I know them well, even I can't believe it. In fact, this is a matter of course. In the spring, I watched it open my life bit by bit, and I was ready to go. In the summer, I walked under the shadow of the barge of the class, looked up at the leaves like green ink, and saw the summer sun through the leaves, I couldn��t feel the heat of summer, it was cool for them. The state of mind. Looking at the little bird hidden in the canopy, the heart lake suddenly rippled. Snow fell on the branches, they were replaced with winter clothes, it should be white, no? However, the city has poured its dust on the winter clothes of the trees. They are too small for the power of nature. Although they are gone, they are still part of nature, and the cleansing of nature is filled with their hearts. How can the dust immerse into the life of the tree, it belongs to us human beings, belongs to this dirty city. This is the fourth sad winter I have witnessed. I am not distressed by the leaves that have passed away [url=http://www.salesmoking.com/]Parliament Cigarettes[/url]. I am not saddened by the dust on the snow, but saddened by the indifference of the purity. This is the memory of the city's indifference. Autumn is the season when the life of the tree goes into depression. At this time, I will nostalgicly miss the time when the city is desolate, when the autumn is like a clear baby. Today, I can't tolerate people burning the autumn life, the leaves ruthlessly. Every day, the blue smoke on the street seems to tell me about its memories of the city. Whenever I stare at a pile of warm fire for a long time, looking at the yellow or golden [url=http://www.salesmoking.com/]Newport Cigarettes Coupons[/url], or the green leaves that are oozing in the fire, the heart will be full of glimpses. Pain. The heart that could not be calmed for a long time, there was another sorrow. It is the sorrow of the tree that cannot fall back to the roots. Is it not the sorrow of our humanity? We are self-proclaimed as Creator, and we want to plunge all the creatures of nature into the cold concrete. But I don't know how big their roots are underground. We are too cruel, not letting a life return to our hometown, but also treating them as garbage in the city and burning them ruthlessly. This is the cruel memory of the city. I am afraid to go on. I have more fires in front. What makes me shocked is that the white under the tree stung my eyes. They are lying under the tree, and I seem to have seen their contempt for the tree and their contempt for life [url=http://www.vipusacigarettes.com/]Cigarettes Online[/url]. They don't know that the trees are bleak and they are so pale and weak. This is the memory of the city white. I am in the tree, and my heart is also jumping vigorously. I stroked the trunk and felt the courage to experience the storm. I picked up a leaf, the yellow veins, the thin dust, the rubbish around, all of which are evidence that they accused us. The yellowed memory of this city. The memory of the city is unclear and unclear. It mixes the desolateness of the past and the prosperity of the present. It contains memories of life and the description of tall buildings, filled with the sunshine and the smell of dust. Such a complicated memory is in our minds. One day, this memory will be dusty, and it may become a history that no longer exists, and may continue to be our future. I hope it goes into history.
City, your memory holds my future, I witness your memory, and keep your future looking forward to your future.