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Tibet, my love do not stray

I finally left Lhasa. From the city to the airport road is very long, looking at the Lhasa River, the poplar stands quietly, I own over and over and gently said: Farewell, farewell. Opposite the car speeding and, I am sure there must be one of the one where he was. Our eyes must have been staggered in a space-time slices rather than, as our destiny. I can only deeply, sighed in his heart, that moment, I have read every one of the roadside poplar to convey to my message: Let's go, let's go. . .

I have to believe that the airport is really a place where destiny of our story where the interpretation of this back and forth. As I later wrote the letter, as when he came up to me at the airport, I sensed that the story occurs, but Zijin Fairy in "Journey to the West," Lane said: "I guess the beginning. But I guess to see how this outcome, "Yes, I guess the outcome, if we really had begun.

He came from the Mainland, Tibet, working for two years. The wind, frost, snow does not seem to face in his young leave any traces, only quietly in his pupil of the eye where the point a bit of melancholy. He's not much can be said that the tour guide I met the most "cool" one, his smile looked more and more valuable. His smile, in my view, than we in Tibet but also brilliant sunshine does! At that time I would be moved from their hearts, the: young nice!

Stay in Lhasa a few days, I finally started to curiosity about his life, his choice, he, she. His answer has always been noncommittal, or smiled, too busy to greet the players left behind. This gives I felt like a child unwilling to eat less sugar and excitement.

Go to Shigatse halfway to heaven at last put a sunny, full of people cheering the car jumped out of car when taking pictures, and only near the vehicle he was leaning idly, black hat low on suppressed eye. My eyes again and again had to withdraw from the distant beauty, fell on him, he happy? Or not happy? Hard to say, perhaps he does not here. Desert in the distance behind him, quietly gazing at a Homecoming like pioneers.

In the room where he stayed, he unexpectedly received a phone call is to discuss rental thing, simply gave him answer, he suddenly proposed that talk together. Take a look at the table had 11 points, instinctively I said no, the results of the rest of the night shaking in waiting for him to call again. In that specific environment, specific space, people are not very easy to become vulnerable then? Or is it because I really love him? I really do believe that their feelings?

Swim Shigatse, our team of travel coming to an end, I and my companions will go on Everest, I have to stay in the back waiting for his team bid farewell to the midday sun as much a thorn had the eyes with tears, I do not know how the matter looked at his lonely figure go away, by a group of Tibetans to re-wrap back to the myth of eternal change, a great tragedy numerous live around me. I think that we are not good-bye.

Until that afternoon. Lhasa, he saw sitting on the steps of the hotel entrance me, slightly Yizheng. Then a very bright smile on his face to blossom.

The first time I saw him jumping in the time could not believe his eyes, he dances like a great a person, that once in my 19 years old from my life Dunqu the prodigal son. They are way to invest, as if their lives every time the dance. My tears at the dance of light passing shiny crystal, but forgot to wipe. Do not know how much to drink, I suddenly found myself face is posted on his arms, dancing. Is the familiar song, "梅花三弄" who is "cutting the human intestinal plum a plum 2 get Feisi Liang..." He said, came to Tibet, you have to relax. My tears, and finally into a torrential rain.

The next day, September 9 is the day I left. Call to his OFFICE, colleagues said he was an early pick up crashed. Remembered that he said, I believe I will come back, so talk about parting. I would also like to leave to escape.

I can not change my life, as the prodigal son's heart is always uncertain, this is the letter I wrote him the first sentence.

That once wild and sadness in their hearts, after peeling the layers, then gently close the. Like my Tibet, as I of him. Everything seems to have never occurred. The day he and his car, desert photo seems to have become a painting, I stood outside of painting again and again watch the pity, I know, I never left and have not entered.

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