is a lotus flower in the sill
Autumn sky, pure. The autumn wind, in my arms. Ink, painting a autumn, small pool, the remaining, rocky, autumn rain, load on a bit cinnabar, shaw killed in a little warmth alexander hera pre wedding.
Static empty, he prowled the mountain forest. Zhang ai-ling said: "don't think I'm a proud people, I never yes, at least, turn around outside by master hong yi, the temple, I was so humble." Outside the world of mortals, it is sill a flower; The pure land, is a lotus flower in the sill.
Thick ink bone, weak ink freehand brushwork. Between the shade, a piece of white space. People idle, the flower falls. Night is static, empty mountains. Month out, bird. Life between activity, static and desperately is dynamic; Move beyond cure, will be quiet. Empty soul, into a color; Color and desperately is still empty. Heart, and a read, the world of mortals rolling, all the colors of spring; During such a thought, the dust settles, autumn waters the sky alexander hera wedding.
Flower, is a home to return to of color; Lin, is a bird's home; The sky, is a home to return to of cloud; The sea, is a home to return to of water; Desert, is home. Heart, is the home of all things. A bottle of water, a stalk, double leaf, a flower, six core, a violet, sit in the vase, decorous, of couse, plain and neat. Quiet, spray glass transparent, yellow, with compressed air. Core to move? Pneumatic? Crush?
There is a feeling called miss; There is a love, called tempted; There is a read, worried about is, There is a kind of thought, ambiguous;
Love, stingy; Heart, care about. Because of love too deep, so hurt; Because love is really, so hurts: because of pain, so difficult to give up: because understand, so mercy amway.