Sleep... The annual meeting will give me a new weather report.
I miss you more and more in the past few years. Your news is still messy. I can collect and sort it out until I finally haven't escaped the subtle weather. It's cold and raw, but the snow hasn't appreciated the creak of your step. I don't seem to have heard the sound of firecrackers for many years. Whose children are making trouble. I walk by my side, but my heart is more lonely. You are not used to going home
