Anleitungen » The details of my paintings

The details of my paintings are a bit like a god, but the scent of the burrs and the sigh of life, but how can not be seen. After all, it is the wheat on the land.e old man reached out and gently stroked the straight mang, and the wheat was as good as a group of children under his hand. I put down the brush and tried it, but I was stabbed out. The old man smiled: "Prostitute, your hand is too tender, not used to it."s, my hands, I haven��t crossed the soil for the wheat, I haven��t pinched the smell of the straw, and I haven��t got a pillow on the wheat. The wheat will not recognize me. strips around the farmhouse are also the same gold. The old man followed my gaze and smiled. "Oh, that is my wife can't spare, saying that it can be planted." His look lingered. "Tianben is less, and it is a pity."little further away, the pile driver screamed, the dust and the noise were blurred, and the minions of those cities disturbed the even breathing of the wheat and disturbed the flowing, golden dreams on my drawing board.t's okay, how much wheat can grow, just look at them, I will be comfortable in my heart." He squinted at the golden piece on my drawing board and smiled Newport 100S. Going back again, facing the wheat field, the breath of the wheat should be silent.wind of good things spreads the taste of the wheat, and they seem to want to arch to me Marlboro Gold. I stood on the ridge and the enthusiasm for them was almost untenable Marlboro Cigarettes.ld it be that they are waiting for me, waiting for me to really recognize them?at, how do I understand this late?ing to take a breath, the unique furry, warm breath of wheat broke into my body without any negotiation, pulling, pulling, and alarming the meridians that lost in the chaos and slept for a long time. life is not grown on the land, rooted in the ridge of wheat? The wheat raises us, and once and for all, we sneak into our bodies as food, and in a hurry of powder and paste, we eagerly explore each of our bodies leading to the soul. A ridge. Wheat tried to wake us up and take it back from the lost city Newport Cigarettes Coupons.s not early, the wife is still waiting for me at home.�� The old man went to the distance and gradually disappeared into the wheat field! It became one of the thousands of wheat Marlboro Red 100S. He was planted on this land!ng back, the buckwheat will be cooked, and Hu will not return?Xia was scattered into a scorpion, and the golden spikes on the painting board were extended to the sky. The thorns in the vicinity were almost recognizable. They had been domesticated by my brush and not so stinging. Draw two dark silhouettes, reflected in yellow, gold ink. I didn't tell the old man, I put him and me on the drawing board.w, even if the wheat in other parts of the world grows better, the wheat in front of me belongs to me.