青云翻译

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Turn a dusty old diaries, narratives are stories I was young. Memory redundancy, however, come like a dream. You remember the years blurred eyes, shoot a hint of tears.

Opens the dust-laden already long diary, there recorded narrates belonged to my young story.However memory excess, suddenly like dream.Remembered that year your blurred both eyes, project the light tear light.

Turning a weathered old diary, where chronicles the story of 10,122 belong to me. However, shutting off society memory is like a dream. You remember the years you creepy shots in the eyes, and a hint of tears.

Turn a dusty old diaries, narratives are stories I was young. Memory redundancy, however, come like a dream. You remember the years blurred eyes, shoot a hint of tears.