Quick soup is like ribs

The heart blue-hand private dish -- the left hand, the right hand, the snow, the blue heart, and the long, long, long, long-scrutinous sport. Years, picks, sings, long hair and buttocks. For more than a year at home, he was drunk in cooking and writing, and he was a confidant, and he was in the garden, and he was a drinker, and he was self-sufficient. This is a time of idleness, not related to the symbiosis of the past. This is a time of purity, not to the scoundrel of the past. It is a time of euphemism, not to the old scoundrel of the past; it is a time of quietness, not to the vanity of the past. There is no purpose, there is nothing but food, there is no heart, there is nothing but words. It's a good feeling to look at all kinds of food, to smite under the magic of fire and water. And it is a joy to look at all kinds of things and to be at peace in the shadows and light. Watching the world as it is, under the pile of words and words, is an empty heart... and I am so drunk that I travel with my heart. This is one of my own, not time, not geography, not wealth, not others. I enjoy this wonderful feeling, watching time leap through the flames, watching the world wander around in words, watching the food roll through the ink, and it's a beautiful sight. And We leaped in order to combine food with words, as children forgot their age. And We rejoiced for the beauty of things, as children, and forgot their hearts at once. And We scoffed at the likeness of what is in our hearts, as children, and forgot their place at once. And We opened our eyes for the love of a friend, as a child, and forgot his loneliness at once... a man's wind and snow, a man's twilight, a man's drink, a pen, a meal. I tried to get out of a circle where life would be perfect and there would be no regrets... but the night was quiet, but the wind was cold, but when the luxuriousness went down, and the plume of silence was so big that the distance, whether I was running or walking, was only the starting point and never set out. At this time, I understand that the wine cannot be with me, that he can only give me a night of drunkenness, that the pen cannot be with me, that he can only give me a moment's memory, and that he can only give me a moment's leave. If you wish to be happy and have no regrets, you shall find my soul mate in the dust, and you shall walk with one another in peace. Every time I dream, there's a woman who smiles at me, and I know that's the other half I'm looking for. It's a kind of woman I'm trying to sketch out her face and speculate about her nature. Willow Eyebrows, Cherry Mouths, Faraway Nasals, dream-like big eyes, a smileful city. He's full of milk, he's ass, he's got long legs, he's got a twirl, he's got a twirl. Admittedly, he has learned the art of poetry and respected his elders for their good faith. For a long time, with grace. There is no fear. # Days and days # and night # Together with blue, with each other, with each other, with no time to walk, with the taste of woody oil and salt, and with the snow and snow of the world... No, it is not my duty... the hearts of the Chus are blue before the dawn of the two elevens, bathing in the incense, praying, wishing for a single heart