I have always wondered how people dream a wonderland can yet destroy whatever may result at the same time. Watching the Alice in Wonderland, what we enjoyed and marvelled utterly have to be abandoned and fade away. It’s the harsh reality that predominant our fragile life, torturing people to death yet hold the spotless glass of innocence and hope high.
Enlightening, huh?

As said, there is no practice before or after life. What is the meaning of drafting if sketch is life itself? No one can tell what to expect in our misleading view of life as experience from others, heave or light, is utterly irrelative to one as an individual.
If we make no difference to the world’s destiny, why bother to reshape it?
If we do, why don’t we make the world as ideal as possible?

I feel deeply sorry for those little naïve fairies that I once missed. The crystal castle we once met. And the irreconcilable twists of life leading into our parallel future.
I can see you every single moment, but we will never meet.

What on earth is happy then?
When J.K.Rowling finally realises how unbearable the tragedy was and publish an official fanfic, wishing D&H happy ever after.

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主人告示

罗莉有三好：身娇腰柔易推倒
御姐有三妙：皮鞭丰胸指甲刀
女仆有三巧：陪吃陪住身材好

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