Rosemary

i like a state of life, that's to be with someone i like, to do something i love, not to be poor. three things seem simple, but a lot of people spend their whole lives pursuing it without necessarily getting what they want. it's easy to find a soul mate, a person with the same mind. it's either to the bull or not to speculate, and two people wandered in their own world as if two parallel lines had not crossed. the saddest thing about life is a life of company, and if so, i would rather be alone in my old age than in my life, and the best comfort would be to be free from want. now that you have found someone who loves you, there is no more way to express love than to eat food and eat it three times a day. food is an expression of love. early in the morning, a hot breakfast was already on the table, waiting for a sweet kiss and a bright smile; lunch was a well-prepared meal; and dinner might be a lighter dish for health, but the licorice mixed with colour. if the food is also sex, then the rosemary of my love at first sight is a woman who is so glamorous, so radiant, so distasteful, so unsatisfied, so impulsive, and so soft in her arms. no wonder i'm crazy about it. the sweet rosemary lies silently on the yellow bread, and the fragrance of the fragrance is already in the air. and when the lips and the tongue touched it, it was as though all that was around it had been suspended. there is nothing but the fragrance of the lips that spreads in the proxies of time. rosemary, i'm crazy about you。