Chanasachimuchi

Leaves are falling down from the trees. Who travels on the last bus after gorgeous spring and summer prosperities? He has gone through a wayward spring and insolent summer that only left a carefree autumn. I single-handedly lean on the window look at the sky with visible scenery through the glass the gray is not beautiful. When you get older and older people said it is easy to get lost. Old enough to have the Quinceaneras Dresses but we are not old enough to bear the future. The dark night sky cannot find the little stars twinkling traces just the endless solitude. Wind chaos over the place with a kind of cozy feeling. Time has passed so a little bit of the hourglass of time but slowly drawn to the unknown world.

The four quarters of life around the world such as winter-like cold all attributed to the quiet time. Some people are unable to bear the cold at selected leaves as they die. People love autumn, love its high clear sky and love its fresh tender air. I love the autumn of silence and to bear a kind of sense of loss. The fall of rain such as depression is really belonging to the contemplative and dying of the season. We are wandering in the side of the blue sky but a leaf is suddenly falling in front of me. Watching the leaf dances in the air until returns to their roots that even a small one could have a big dream. To have a dream to taste the way to grow up we could know the life process. When we get on the Quinceaneras Dresses to look back although w have not realize as many as our dreams we at east have the beat one in the heart. To experience the autumn we know the growing season.

Only know the pride of the moment without worry can we have the best feeling of life. Their own results in the test do not enter the elite class. I have learned that the sense of loss often feel too good. In the exam period of time I was always self-righteous that well prepared for it. The fact is not the case but the test predictable. My mood is not to restore calm but the end result I am very disappointed. Standing in wheat field edge the golden wheat and mature wheat are bowed heads like teaching us to be humility. They have dressed in the Quinceaneras Dresses and find the modesty of their lives to be graceful. Let me find a new starting point I become a boat with a new desire to fold through the frustration, pain and loss.