Help design personal artistic signatures.

1 Buried a city and turned off all the lights. Your sunset, my face, whose third year. The dancing of the pen tip is the strongest touch of brilliant red in the spotlight. I watched the sunset at the seaside and snuggled up on a pillow, but I couldn't swim out of memories, but I couldn't learn to let go and walk. Burn a mirage with matches and let yourself escape from the heavy rain. 6 hide in the doomed street and walk through the water under the bridge with a smile. 7 whose scenery and heart the city injured under the eyelashes passes by. In the light silence, you opened a shopping shop and waited for the forgotten cape skylight. The witch's kiss spell came for the first time, and the wet oath went out. I sat on the sea mending the net, and you fell on the bottom of the sea to sing the song of Dai Yue. 10 Wait for a person or a story. 1 1 Swim across a world, a life and death. Who did you sing the end of that song about us to? 13 whose city is the gorgeous erotic line of your palm entangled in? Laughing and laughing. 14 Write love as an immortal legend of Enemy at the Gates. Then, will you cross the ice and snow? 15 carved our story on the weathered gable, and passers-by cried when they saw it. 16 who are you? A teenager who misses your pen tip turns into a song on the desolate road of the city. 17 It takes a thousand years to love you and ten thousand years to forget. 18 Who has a scarlet mole in the corner of his eye to complete your prosperous life, and whose mountains and rivers have given you ground-breaking empty joy. 19 Love song in the next life, leave the words for you to fill in, depending on who you are. The dazzling array of things in the window is full of life. 2 1 That love song is about romantic love, but it has nothing to do with you and me. A player enters a painting and spends his life in the world. As beautiful as flowers and jade, the enemy can't pass the time. Draw a life-and-death game and write an ending for our story. Did anyone collect the passing scenery for you? 25. I am in the memory of flying snow all over the sky, but in which dictionary do you interpret the transformation? Draw a life-and-death game and write an ending for our story.

Irish snow, Turkish blue, Moscow tears. I collect them in the small sun, sunny days and smiles. Persian Gulf Sea, Vienna Hall, Arabian Legend. I wrote them down in a thick photo album. And seven powders and the princess. 28 perfect hiding sadness. For whom to sing farewell songs, for whom to love, and for whom to write the world. Who smiles and pretends not to be sad? 3 1 pin the drunken tomorrow on Pandora's strings and spend the rest of your life pretending to sing heaven and earth. 32 is the sorrow of fate or the pain of reincarnation. In whose era and whose world. In that prosperous era, we were hurt beyond recognition by loneliness. There are so many lonely people suffering. Who owns whose beauty, who feels whose sadness, has a panoramic view. Did I ever tell you that love is my unchanging belief? Did I ever tell you that love means keeping someone in your heart forever? 38 favorite songs, listen quietly. People you like, far away. I have a process and an ending. If I pester myself again, I feel greedy. Sadness is self-inflicted, happiness is yours. 4 1 A woman who is afraid of cold must have a cold heart. What we are guarding is a disaster that is hastily refuted, and an illusion that can't be beaten in a lifetime. One step at a time, the point of no return, first frost face. If a pair of eyes shed tears for me, I would like to believe this sad life again. The story of the star is to walk with you in the sea of people, but it won't make you get lost. The Miao man stuck between her tongues wanted to dance for you and finally fell in love with this country. 47 nights are cold, the lights are dim, the ambiguity is exhausted, and the song is euphemistic. Complex experience carved deep lines in my eyes, and I turned to carve a flower. I sing with my bare hands, you play Chopin, but I am blind. I have been wandering for so long, but I don't want to go home, because if you are not at home, I will never have a home. 5 1 I am not afraid to let you hear those gossips that are entangled in the middle of the night, and I am not afraid to let the whole world hear them. I'm afraid you'll hear and believe. As long as there is a view in my heart, where is the fragrance of flowers? 53. In those years, with the curtain call of prosperity and unwillingness, an eternal flower opened. I'll pawn in my next life, and I'll come to blood out with you in my next life. Love you, give you all the good things in my life, and then leave, let the kaleidoscope illuminate your eyes. Roses have no fragrance, miss a person, miss a wound, don't cry, don't talk. The right side of happiness is barren. 58 is always doing two repetitive things, loving him and guarding him. Shh, my wound fell asleep. Just for him to give up his ideal city and go to an unknown dawn of life and death. 6 1 I want to see a grand fashion autumn, and I will keep making a wish until things change rapidly and I am close to your smiling face. 62. The missed years have blossomed in the desert in the north, but they are barren in the spring and summer of reincarnation. How many streets have you walked and how many times will you think of me? Repeated forbearance and repeated concessions brought lies to the banquet. Some people say that memory is a bridge, but it leads to a lonely prison. I have gone through all my sorrows, and the saddest thing is that you didn't come to the end. I have gone through all despair, and the most desperate thing is that you are still at the starting point. Who travels around the world without a box of masks these days? I'm just sad that I can't grow old with you and never have a chance to see your smile again. You and I are strangers, and it is a blessing to meet. I pray to meet you at a beautiful street corner and then meet myself ... the scenery under my wings, no matter how beautiful, is fleeting. If I experience too much in a moment, I will lose eternity.

Whose face is reflected in my dream by the clear and tearful lake?

Memories are like broken glass, broken in bright blue.

What I want must be a happy ending, a gorgeous ending, the reconstruction of private cities, the splendor of magnificent brocade, and the peace of mind and inevitability of flowers blooming and falling.

Confusion of gathering and scattering, stormy, happy tunes rippling in our hearts, thoughts flowing, handed down from generation to generation.