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The taste of love

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User is offline   ylq 

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The taste of love, the flowers in the dust of memory, with the light of the light, illuminate the years that are not in the memory - the most beautiful time. In the early spring, the spring breeze is accompanied by a faint floral scent in the air. Grandma with a warm smile, holding a big scorpion to the brightest place in the sun, carefully placed on the ground, scattered the bright petals in the basket, all over the corner. A drop of sweat beads seems to infiltrate my heart, opening out one of the most beautiful flowers Cigarettes For Sale. "Grandma, don't be busy, let's go back to the house." I can't help but feel a little distressed. "Oh, not busy!" Grandma always kept the good smile. After a while, the naughty drops on the petals were completely dried. In order to protect the inside of the petals, the grandmother also deliberately stayed there, for fear of forgetting the time. The grandmother's passionate heart is like a hot sun, unwavering, and the persistent figure is engraved into my heart. When the petals are dried Marlboro Lights, the grandmother immediately rushes home and faces. She took a cup from a bag, smashed the flour into a bowl with a cup, and took a cup of water with a cup. Pour it into the pot first, then use both hands to mix the flour and water together. When the flour is dry, add water. When my grandmother��s fingers are sour Marlboro Gold, I will pick up my hands, and my heart will not help but get sour. It was hard and good, and the grandmother finally got up and took a break for ten minutes. "Grandma, wait for me to help you make a flower cake together." "No, you are still so small, just take care of it." My brow wrinkled. For a long time, she promised: "That's okay." Our cooperation officially began. She cut a large piece of dough into a long strip and cut it into small pieces one by one. I also entered the state. , and happily press the pieces into a thick circle, and then press them into a cake with a rolling pin. At the beginning, the hands and feet of the hands were not in my heart. It took a long time, I couldn��t stand it, and my body was sour. I turned to look at the diligent figure of my grandmother. When I was awkward, a touch of emotion came to my heart, and my tears blurred my eyes. After the flowers were stuffed and the pies were pinched out, the grandmother put them in the oven. After a long wait, the flower cake was finally released. I can't wait to pick up one with chopsticks. The smell, the warmth of love and the scent of flowers come out; tasting is the taste of love, the sweetness of sweat pouring, the heart is refreshing, the age is like water. Close your eyes and lightly open this time, full of beauty. It turned out that the love that was memorized by memory was the most beautiful.
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