The sound of the howling rain brought to itself beyond the wall of wheat, the symphony of drops in the party of the clouds hide tears and touch the glass. The thick mist does not reflect the touch and the wailing sound of the clouds scratches the thunder. In the negation of revision, it is enough that man has expanded to the extent of his memories, he did not know this yet; whose thunder was no less than thunder. Wheat was alone in that chaotic night, my father was late on a fateful night for Wheat and it was still raining.
My loneliness is the truth and your distance is the truth, which statement is true and the other is false!!!!! The truth of isolation or the truth of distance!
He decided to brave the wheat and go in the rain on a wet night.
