Musik News » I always say that my

I always say that my eyes are silent, I don��t know, my eyes are affectionate, and there are voices. The inscriptions are on the bustling streets, and people coming and going are in constant stream. Looking at it carefully, every look is empty and stunned. It is no wonder that this material society has been soaked for too long, which is inevitable. Silent eyes are filled with me. It was one of the most embarrassing moments in my life until I met him. In the first lesson of the first art training class, I was faced with a blank space in the face of this white paper. I clasped the sketch pencil, but my fingers were in the air. From what pen, how to write, I have no clue. In the large studio, only the tip of the pen crossed the beautiful melodies of the paper Marlboro Red. And I sat in the last row of the studio and became the only listener to the concert. From 3:30 to 3:20, from 3:30 to 4:00, my paintings are still perfect without leaving a trace of "覴�". Time slipped past me Online Cigarettes, but I could do nothing. If I put this studio into a painting, I will be the shaded part of the painting. The clouds are densely covered. The black clouds are pushed in the air without a trace of white clouds. From time to time, there was a bitter cold wind that squeezed into the window and pierced my back. I was sweating in the studio. The sweat of the beans spread on the tip of the nose and dripped on the paper �C this is perhaps the only trace I left on this piece of paper mokingusacigarettes.com. I forgot how I got out of the studio. But I can't forget the ridiculous eyes of the painters and the teacher's helpless and pitiful eyes. I walked alone into the gardening area of ??the park. Full of beautiful and colorful eyes jumped on my eyes - just staying in the eyes, can not enter the heart. I didn't expect him to come too. He is a painter of mine. For art, he is omniscient and omniscient. I don't know why he came and pity me? laugh at me? Looking at the clumps of bloody red roses, the heart is like a knife. He slowly approached me, but did not speak. I struggled to raise myself slowly and looked at him - I saw his radiance in his gaze, piercing my heart deeply, and dispelling the empty dark clouds. His eyes are so calm, like a spring, but it is so indestructible. Encouraging the heat, burning from his eyes, burning into my chest, burning my frozen heart... speechless, but the eyes represent everything. Who said that the eyes were silent, I picked up the brush and painted it lightly. A portrait of the character was finally completed. There is only one pair of eyes on the drawing paper. In black and white, the eyes shine with golden light..
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