Happiness is very simple, a sweet is enough.

In that night, the wind blows to touch my hair through the window curtain (Buy D3 Gold). The moonlight ripple before the window and stretch the shadow.

Suddenly, there is some sadness. The mood is blooming so utter. There is a little bit of grief, a little helpless and curling melancholy.

Gardenia blooms. The voices of flowers can't hide from far sentimental. It ripped tear and blossom deep silence in the night alone. The delicate white is the dazzling white and white at the heart. Occasionally, it branch out shallow green and it light pours sorrow to make the person can't bear to see. Once you look at it you will be hurt. The weak flowers can't wrap the sweet. It dropped fragrance, wanton stream to penetrate of the silent night.

Gardenia flower is sweet. The sweet was painful. Trace of sweet smell was through the windows and doors to reflect the memory. The heart was wet because of the night and hygiene. The heart is slightly tipsy for incense and tired. The past entanglements shake down soft aroma with the memory in cold. The micro header and those stories which were locked in the brow didn't stop.

They sweet dance and smile to look at the wounds of night. In the gardenia night, there are some ambiguity and some collateral.

Through the night of hazy, I smell the gardenia flowers once again. The faint scent went over the tip of my nose to touch my lips. In the hazy, some people went always and some things are light. I vaguely smell a kind of happiness, that is a silent sweet behind tolerance.

Listen to the quiet night of the voices of gardenia, I know: happiness is actually very simple, it is just from perfume.