tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90009081866235234762012-01-30T14:00:31.377+08:00brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.comBlogger251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-68148560463242308502012-01-29T23:31:00.003+08:002012-01-30T00:11:54.657+08:00<div>Type it out and deleted it all</div><div>Moments are meant to be remembered</div><div>How I wish I can remember them differently</div><div>When I can say I love you at the airport for my departure</div><div>Dad...</div><div><br /></div><div>Type it out and deleted it all</div><div>Moments are meant to be remembered</div><div>How I wish I can remember them differently</div><div>When I can have a "full" graduation day with you</div><div>Jie...</div><div><br /></div><div>Type it out and deleted it all</div><div>Moments are meant to be remembered</div><div>How I wish I can remember them differently</div><div>When I wasn't too busy to work instead of hugging you and playing with you</div><div>Dear...</div><div><br /></div><div>Typed it out and deleted it all</div><div>Moments are meant to be remembered</div><div>How I wish I can om you before going back to "see my dad away"</div><div>How I wish I can stay with you when your car was broken down</div><div>How I wish I gave you a hug when you drove away</div><div>....</div><div><br /></div><div>Typed it out and deleted it all...</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-6814856046324230850?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-6479655395901163932011-11-14T22:22:00.003+08:002011-11-14T22:52:13.184+08:00thank you miracle<div>at least something in my life is this beautiful</div><div>being able to find you again, not in just my dream but is in real</div><div><br /></div><div>and for having you being by my side</div><div>lift me up, hold my hand </div><div>warm me up, hear me out</div><div>and loving me for who i really am</div><div><br /></div><div>kau ilhamku...</div><div>thank you, the hand... for staying</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-647965539590116393?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-29068122336209644662011-07-06T14:31:00.003+08:002011-07-07T06:16:13.245+08:00The hand<br />That pinches me<br />Hits me<br />Always be ready to squeeze my pimples with devilish face<br /><br />The hand<br />That pinches my nose when another hand is holding a book to read for me<br />Rubs my head but never fixes after that and laugh because of the look of me<br />Wipes on my shirts when it's wet or something is sticking on it<br />And puts pepper or soya sauce into my drinks<br /><br />The hand<br />That cheats whenever playing some game<br />That secretly throws meat to me and steals my mouse<br />Punches hippo<br />Throws hippo<br />And digs his noses<br /><br />The hand<br />That pulls my pants<br />Being noty to block me from going to the toilet<br />Purposely hits outside to make me run while playing ping pong or badminton<br />That pulls my ears<br />And happily picks 'things' in there out for me<br /><br />The hand<br />That plucks my legs' hair<br />Steals my drinks<br />Tickles my feet<br />Unties my shoelaces<br />As well as throwing my slippers away<br /><br />But then that hand<br />Leads me to where I should buy another slippers<br />And if I've ever almost fell down<br />It is there to hold me tight<br /><br />The hand<br />That covers my eyes<br />From violent scene, or something I'm scared of<br />And it silently takes my tears away<br />While another one is hugging me from shivering<br /><br />The hand<br />That can't draw well neither be able to cut straight<br />Yet it makes for me a handmade birthday card<br /><br />The hand<br />That captures my moments<br />Patiently fixes the kite<br />Checks if I'm inside<br />And finally is always silently covering blanket<br /><br />The hand<br />That washes dishes<br />Cleans my fan<br />That buy Strepsil for noty throat<br />And hugs me when I am sick and no electric available<br /><br />The hand<br />That drives me to happiness<br />Stops me from danger<br />And wraps around me just to say goodbye<br /><br />The hand<br />That holds umbrella outside<br />Waiting while it was raining heavily<br />Keep rubbing me if I was not warm enough<br />And if I keep sweating due to hot<br />The hand is there to wipe for me<br /><br />The hand<br />That holds my shoulders when I'm riding<br />Pats on me to signal me to go<br />Holds the helmet when it's going to fly away<br />Or holds a cup for me whenever I need to drink<br />And zips up my jacket if I ever say that I'm cold<div><br /></div><div>The hand</div><div>That buys lunch for me<br />Hold me while changing gear<br /></div><div>After running under the rain afraid I will be hungry at home</div><div>That helps me to apply eye drop</div><div>And washes hair for me</div><div><br /></div><div>That same hand</div><div>Peels crabs</div><div>Takes vegy</div><div>And cook many things for me<br /><br />The hand<br />Not hard, not dry, nor strong enough<br />But soft, fragile, and easy to 'run away'<br />Yet is the tightest and the warmest hand that I'm proud to have...<br />But I'm willing to let it go to fly high<br /><br />Thanks for everything, the hand...<br />Stay warm and peaceful...<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-2906812233620964466?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-69790419910712646782011-06-05T23:48:00.003+08:002011-06-06T00:15:09.480+08:00Sometimes as if it just never happened<div>But I can't pretend it didn't</div><div>Because the heart where I belong</div><div>Is you</div><div><br /></div><div>Without you beside</div><div>I don't feel lost</div><div>Without you stepping into my life</div><div>I do</div><div><br /></div><div>I see you</div><div>When my eyes close</div><div>But you are not here</div><div>When they rush to open</div><div><br /></div><div>I can't hold</div><div>Can't touch</div><div>Can't even release</div><div><br /></div><div>I smile in pain </div><div>In hope </div><div>And in happiness</div><div><br /></div><div>You're not a shadow</div><div>Which I can leave behind</div><div>You're an image that linger</div><div>Through my tears</div><div>Too clear...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-6979041991071264678?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-87136147624559202062011-02-18T00:43:00.006+08:002011-02-18T23:15:45.895+08:00"When you lost something, you found something instead"<div><br /></div><div>1st time ever, I'm able to see you in my dream. Your were always going to appear but never before.. I see it again...your voice, your appearance, your watch, your green shirt (as a day care teacher)... everything is still so clear, what my memory remembers about you, remain unchanged.. is it a sign? I'll try, at least I try to find you just like how I do in my dream.. and please...</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sorry for being such a silly kid by that time, receiving your special care but I ran away, tried to hide and found the other ways so you wouldn't see me for no reason!</div><div><br /></div><div>You were more than a mom to me, who gave me that K milk when I was sick. When I grow up I know it was VinamilK with the K capital instead. It tasted nice, even nicer when I was sick. I don't like milk but sometimes I do drink it for this haunted memory in me. When mom picked me up late, you warmed me up with a bread (got chili though), when I fell down, you applied medicine, you spared only me when the whole class was punished and if had to punish me, I still got the least painful one, you gave only me your house phone number and your full name... and my birthday you gave me a big bear which I named Duba...</div><div><br /></div><div>15 years for being a coward, I always wanted to go back there to find you. But I didn't. That place was where all my best memory of my family, of you which it breaks me into pieces if I see it again. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was very stupid for so many years, wrote to you during 20 November and received a sorry letter said that my teacher moved before they even started renting. But her handwriting was very alike yours, you know... so I thought...</div><div><br /></div><div>Please, I have lost something I treasured the most recently, let me find you once again... I'm sorry</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-8713614762455920206?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-1654798024576545162011-02-05T05:03:00.002+08:002011-02-05T05:07:55.325+08:00The hand<br />That pinches me<br />Hits me<br />Always be ready to squeeze my pimples with devilish face<br /><br />The hand<br />That pinches my nose when another hand is holding a book to read for me<br />Rubs my head but never fixes after that and laugh because of the look of me<br />Wipes on my shirts when it's wet or something is sticking on it<br />And puts pepper or soya sauce into my drinks<br /><br />The hand<br />That cheats whenever playing some game<br />That secretly throws meat to me and steals my mouse<br />Punches hippo<br />Throws hippo<br />And digs his noses<br /><br />The hand<br />That pulls my pants<br />Being noty to block me from going to the toilet<br />Purposely hits outside to make me run while playing ping pong or badminton<br />That pulls my ears<br />And happily picks 'things' in there out for me<br /><br />The hand<br />That plucks my legs' hair<br />Tickles my feet<br />Unties my shoelaces<br />As well as throwing my slippers away<br /><br />But then that hand<br />Leads me to where I should buy another slippers<br />And if I've ever almost fell down<br />It is there to hold me tight<br /><br />The hand<br />That covers my eyes<br />From violent scene, or something I'm scared of<br />And it silently takes my tears away<br />While another one is hugging me from shivering<br /><br />The hand<br />That can't draw well neither be able to cut straight<br />Yet it makes for me a handmade birthday card<br /><br />The hand<br />That captures my moments<br />Patiently fixes the kite<br />Checks if I'm inside<br />And finally is always silently covering blanket<br /><br />The hand<br />That washes dishes<br />Cleans my fan<br />That buy Strepsil for noty throat<br />And hugs me when I am sick and no electric available<br /><br />The hand<br />That drives me to happiness<br />Stops me from danger<br />And wraps around me just to say goodbye<br /><br />The hand<br />That holds umbrella outside<br />Waiting while it was raining heavily<br />Keep rubbing me if I was not warm enough<br />And if I keep sweating due to hot<br />The hand is there to wipe for me<br /><br />The hand<br />That holds my shoulders when I'm riding<br />Pats on me to signal me to go<br />Holds the helmet when it's going to fly away<br />Or holds a cup for me whenever I need to drink<br />And zips up my jacket if I ever say that I'm cold<div><br /></div><div>The hand</div><div>That buys lunch for me</div><div>After running under the rain afraid I will be hungry at home</div><div>That helps me to apply eye drop</div><div>And washes hair for me</div><div><br /></div><div>That same hand</div><div>Peels crabs</div><div>Takes vegy</div><div>And cook many things for me<br /><br />The hand<br />Not hard, not dry, nor strong enough<br />But soft, fragile, and easy to 'run away'<br />Yet is the tightest and the warmest hand that I'm proud to have...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-165479802457654516?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-63872864380731141412010-08-31T17:12:00.004+08:002010-08-31T17:41:02.917+08:00Merahmu bara semangat waja<div>Putihmu bersih budi pekerti</div><div>Kuning berdaulat payung negara</div><div>Biru perpaduan kami semua</div><div><br /></div><div>Puncak dunia telah kau tawan</div><div>Lautan luas telah kau redah</div><div>Membawa semangat jiwa merdeka</div><div>Semarak jaya kami warganya</div><div><br /></div><div>Empat belas melintang jalurnya</div><div>Semua negeri dalam Malaysia</div><div>Satu suary satu semangat</div><div>Itu sumpah warga berdaulat</div><div><br /></div><div>Jalur gemilang... di bawah naunganmu</div><div>Jalur gemilang... kami semua bersatu</div><div>Perpaduan ketaatan</div><div>Amalan murni rakyat Malaysia</div><div>Jalur gemilang... megah kami terasa</div><div>Jalur gemilang... kibarkanlah wawasan</div><div>Merah putih biru kuning</div><div>Jalur semangat kami semua</div><div><br /></div><div>Berkibarlah</div><div>Berkibarlah</div><div>berkibarlah</div><div><br /></div><div>Jalur gemilang</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Memory of 31 August 1957</span></div><div>No idea what the song sings T.T but I'm sure every Malaysian should be very proud of</div><div>Been here for 4 years, I'm 1/5 Malaysian with the age of 21 haha</div><div><br /></div><div>After coming back from Singapore, I still prefer Malaysia as my 2nd country </div><div>Though the language is still a barrier but it is what makes Malaysia special</div><div>Better than you don't even have your own language for your own country</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Merdeka! And thank you to all of you who helped me out with my feature writing of this topic!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-6387286438073114141?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-30573232869196160012010-07-10T22:23:00.013+08:002010-07-10T23:23:58.161+08:00Tiếng Việt - công cụ tạo nên người Việt Nam bên cạnh phẩm chất, sự nghèo đói, bản sắc dân tộc và thành tích trong lịch sử chiến tranh. Nói chung, người Việt Nam chỉ vì những điều kể trên thôi cũng nên ít nhất tự 1 lần cảm thấy kiêu hãnh 'Tôi là người Việt Nam'.<br /><br />Tiếng Việt - 1 nghệ thuật trộn lẫn giữa hệ thống chữ phổ thông và các thanh dấu tạo nên ngôn ngữ. Trên thế giới, hầu hết hệ thống ngôn ngữ 1 là hệ thống chữ phổ thông, 2 là hệ thống chữ tượng hình. Tiếng Việt đứng ở vị trí 1.5 tức là vừa phổ thông vừa được tô thêm 1 vài thanh dấu nhỏ tạo nên sự khác biệt.<br /><br />Nhờ có Tiếng Việt, như những đất nước khác, người Việt Nam xứng đáng tự hào vì họ có 1 ngôn ngữ khác với tiếng Anh<br /><br />Ấy vậy mà...<br /><br />Người Việt Nam tuy trong tâm trí không thể nào từ bỏ được Tiếng Việt nhưng trên giấy tờ, trên đất nước đang ở, Tiếng Việt còn đó, nhưng chữ Việt Nam mờ dần, rồi nước mưa trộn lẫn nước mắt rơi ướt, họ đổi giấy mới, bút mới, mực mới, viết 1 chữ mới...<br /><br />Nhờ có Tiếng Việt, chữ Việt Nam không thể bị thay thế nhưng chữ Việt Nam bị chối bỏ đến mức tàn nhẫn...<br /><br />Câu chuyện bắt đầu từ thói quen 'đúng là Việt Nam' của các cô cậu, chú, bác, dì mỗi lần có điều bức xúc là buột miệng hô lên. Nói như vậy hẳn đất nước khác họ cũng sẽ hô lên 'đúng là X', 'đúng là Y' nhưng không phải cùng 1 sự việc mà thôi. Người Việt Nam có thói quen thấy gì sai, phiền phức và xấu hổ là đổ lỗi cho 2 chữ Việt Nam vô tội mà những người Việt Nam như tôi cũng thấy cay đắng. Bởi vì tôi cũng như vậy.<br /><br />Câu chuyện tiếp tục khi người Việt Nam bước ra khỏi đất nước của mình. Tấm hộ chiếu là điều đầu tiên rạng ngời có được. Là công cụ tự hào chứng minh tôi là người Việt Nam ở đất nước khác. Tôi cầm, tôi khoe với các bạn cùng trang lứa. Tôi giữ, tôi nâng niu, tôi gửi đi để mong nhận được sự chấp thuận để du lịch ở 1 nước khác. Bỗng dưng tôi vội cất vào, tôi ghìm lại, và tôi biết lý do vì tôi là người Việt Nam. Tôi nuốt, nuốt thật nhanh để giọng nói không lạc điệu, tôi nuốt nỗi cay đắng của mình, tôi nuốt chữ Việt Nam trong tôi, nhưng tôi không bao giờ có thể nuốt được Tiếng Việt...<br /><br />1 ngày nào đó, chữ 'Việt Nam' trong từng mỗi người sẽ chết và thay vào đó là 4 chữ 'thuận tiện', 'giàu sang', đổi mới', và 'phát triển'<br /><br />Tại thời điểm đó, chỉ cảm thấy mỉa mai thay, 1 điều gần như không thay đổi, họ vẫn sử dụng Tiếng Việt...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-3057323286919616001?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-89955857455116353892010-07-01T22:38:00.002+08:002010-07-01T23:05:39.994+08:00The hand<br />That pinches me<br />Hits me<br />Always be ready to squeeze my pimples with devilish face<br /><br />The hand<br />That pinches my nose when another hand is holding a book to read for me<br />Rubs my head but never fixes after that and laugh because of the look of me<br />Wipes on my shirts when it's wet or something is sticking on it<br />And puts pepper or soya sauce into my drinks<br /><br />The hand<br />That cheats whenever playing some game<br />That secretly throws meat to me and steals my mouse<br />Punches hippo<br />Throws hippo<br />And digs his noses<br /><br />The hand<br />That pulls my pants<br />Being noty to block me from going to the toilet<br />Purposely hits outside to make me run while playing ping pong or badminton<br />That pulls my ears<br />And happily picks 'things' in there out for me <br /><br />The hand<br />That plucks my legs' hair<br />Tickles my feet<br />Unties my shoelaces<br />As well as throwing my slippers away<br /><br />But then that hand<br />Leads me to where I should buy another slippers<br />And if I've ever almost fell down<br />It is there to hold me tight<br /><br />The hand<br />That covers my eyes<br />From violent scene, or something I'm scared of<br />And it silently takes my tears away<br />While another one is hugging me from shivering<br /><br />The hand<br />That can't draw well neither be able to cut straight<br />Yet it makes for me a handmade birthday card<br /><br />The hand<br />That captures my moments<br />Patiently fixes the kite<br />Checks if I'm inside<br />And finally is always silently covering blanket<br /><br />The hand<br />That washes dishes<br />Cleans my fan<br />That buy Strepsil for noty throat<br />And hugs me when I am sick and no electric available<br /><br />The hand<br />That drives me to happiness<br />Stops me from danger<br />And wraps around me just to say goodbye<br /><br />The hand<br />That holds umbrella outside<br />Waiting while it was raining heavily<br />Keep rubbing me if I was not warm enough<br />And if I keep sweating due to hot<br />The hand is there to wipe for me<br /><br />The hand<br />That holds my shoulders when I'm riding<br />Pats on me to signal me to go<br />Holds the helmet when it's going to fly away<br />Or holds a cup for me whenever I need to drink<br />And zips up my jacket if I ever say that I'm cold<br /><br />The hand<br />Not hard, not dry, nor strong enough<br />But soft, fragile, and easy to 'run away'<br />Yet is the tightest and the warmest hand that I'm proud to have...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-8995585745511635389?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-92156962547345790212010-06-15T01:52:00.008+08:002010-06-15T03:31:44.086+08:00The song that I have been repeating for years<br />The 1st song I played by organ<br />It was the 1st song I played in guitar too<br /><br />Together with other songs related to my primary and secondary period<br />I guess that was the most beautiful period of time that I had with my family<br />The song is very much nicer than the way I always play<br />And it reminds me...what was mine<br />It always mine...<br />The best that I can still remember<br /><br />Memories that I hopelessly desire to have it again...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-9215696254734579021?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-66297352165813670532010-05-12T22:58:00.004+08:002010-05-12T23:20:06.434+08:00Dạo gần đây, tự nhiên cảm giác về 2 cụm từ này lại rõ lên 1 cách trầm trọng, có thể nói là chán nản quá<br />Có những người làm pạn vui, cười nói được rất nhiều điều, pạn cảm thấy ng pạn đó thật tuyệt vời trong mắt pạn, nhưng pạn trở về nhà, ko nghe giọng nói của ng đó, pạn cảm thấy trống rỗng vì nụ cười trên khuôn mặt pạn lúc ấy không phải từ tim mà từ những câu chuyện hay cách hài hước của người pạn kia<br /><br />Có những người làm pạn thấy ấm áp, và ấm áp này không cần hẳn phải cười nói rất nhiều, là sự ấm áp pạn có được khi pạn pít rằng có ít nhất 1 ng hiểu và cảm nhận được pạn<br /><br />Có những người pạn cảm thấy rất gần nhưng cũng rất xa, gần là những lúc pạn cảm thấy thật thỏai mái khi chia sẻ tâm sự, nhưng xa hơn rất nhiều khi pạn muốn làm 1 điều gì đó, muốn nói gì đó nhưng luôn có 1 điều gì đó níu giữ pạn lại, ko hẳn vì pạn ko muốn nói, chỉ đơn thuần pạn cảm thấy rằng pạn ko thể nói đc<br /><br />Có những người pạn lầm tưởng là pạn của pạn, nhưng trg 1 phút giây nào đó, pạn chợt nhận ra điều đó không hẳn đã từng tồn tại<br /><br />Có những người pạn ko thường tiếp xúc, pạn ko thường chia sẻ nhưng họ lại khiến pạn ngạc nhiên khi pạn nhận ra họ hiểu pạn và pít về pạn nhiều như thế nào<br /><br />Có những người pạn gặp mặt hằng ngày, nhưng tâm hồn pạn không pị khuấy động vì đơn giản tâm hồn họ cũng chỉ đi ngang qua pạn mà thôi<br /><br />Tôi có ít nhất 1 người trong số những người này, và tôi có ít nhất 1 người pạn<br /><br />Chỉ là tự nhiên nhận ra... nó không như mình nghĩ. Thất vọng 1 phút.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-6629735216581367053?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-28861553842186474932010-04-17T22:27:00.001+08:002010-04-17T22:28:25.383+08:00<div class="note_content text_align_ltr direction_ltr clearfix"> <div><b>Bởi có những con đường không thể giao nhau</b><br /><br />Bởi có những con đường không thể giao nhau<br />Nên dẫu chúng ta có cố gắng miệt mài vẫn không bao giờ đi cùng một hướng<br />Nhấp cạn ly nâu bỗng thấy đắng lòng cho những câu từ vay mượn<br />Rồi cả một đời vẫn lạc bước về đâu…<br /><br />Bởi có những con đường thấm ướt suốt mấy trận mưa ngâu<br />Nên trái tim cứ nhỏ nước qua bao lần lang thang trên phố<br />Đâu là con đường lá đổ?<br />Đâu là lỡ làng một giấc mơ qua?<br /><br />Bởi có những con đường mãi hun hút về xa…<br />Để trái tim cứ lăn dài qua bao ngày nhung nhớ<br />Em tiếc làm chi một vầng trăng đã lấm lem và có quá nhiều mảnh vỡ<br />Có phải chuyện trăm năm đâu mà ước hẹn đến bạc đầu…<br /><br />Bởi có những con đường càng bước lại càng đau<br />Ký ức mông mênh bị giẫm nát qua những lần về ngang qua phố<br />Nhấp lại một ly nâu bỗng nghe trong lòng có muôn trùng sóng vỗ<br />Cứ tựa lời thì thầm viết tiếp chuyện mùa sau…<br /><br />Bởi có những con đường không thể giao nhau…<br /><br /><b>Phan Lê Trung Tín.<br /></b><div style="text-align: right;">Source: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=290764580353">Chuột Rain</a><br /></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-2886155384218647493?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-26439916354787148292010-03-15T21:37:00.004+08:002010-03-15T22:13:02.095+08:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/S545lOE0eHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/qtgNJEP_G68/s1600-h/DSC_0830.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/S545lOE0eHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/qtgNJEP_G68/s320/DSC_0830.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448855910761134194" border="0" /></a>I've been waiting for this chance to do a present on my own again<br />A piece of mistakes<br />Which make it become the hardest puzzle ever to play<br /><br />Spent more than 1 hour<br />Finally it was done with sleepiness, confusion and happiness<br />Do wish the feeling when you first saw it and when it was done stay with you always...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Hehe this picture my feet look so geli</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yet we look similar with the smiley ktm there kakaka</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Love,<br />Em.<br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-2643991635478714829?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-8817248286668397232010-02-27T00:00:00.002+08:002010-02-27T00:13:52.531+08:00The hand<br />That pinch me <br />Hit me<br />Always be ready to squeeze my pimples with devilish face<br /><br />The hand<br />That pinch my nose when another hand is holding a book to read for me<br />Rub my head but never fix after that and laugh because of the look of me<br />Wipe on my shirts when it's wet or something is sticking on it<br />And put pepper or soya sauce into my drinks<br /><br />The hand<br />That cheats whenever playing some game<br />That can't draw well neither be able to cut straight<br /><br />The hand<br />That plucks my legs' hair<br />Tickle my feet<br />Untie my shoelaces<br />As well as throwing my slippers away<br /> <br />But then that hand<br />Leads me to where I should buy another slippers<br />And if I've ever almost fell down<br />It is there to hold me tight<br /><br />The hand <br />That covers my eyes<br />From violent scene, or something I'm scared of<br />And it silently take my tears away<br />While another one is hugging me from shivering<br /><br />The hand <br />That capture my moments<br />Patiently fix the kite <br />Check if I'm inside<br />And finally is always silently covering blanket <br /><br />The hand<br />That drives me to happiness<br />Stops me from danger<br />And wrap around me just to say goodbye<br /><br />The hand<br />That hold my shoulders when I'm riding<br />Pat on me to signal me to go<br />Hold the helmet when it's going to fly away<br />Or hold a cup for me whenever I need to drink<br />And zip up my jacket if I ever say that I'm cold<br /><br />The hand<br />Not hard, not dry, nor strong enough <br />But soft, fragile, and easy to 'run away'<br />Yet is the tightest and the warmest hand that I'm proud to have...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">For the day I show you my world... </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-881724828666839723?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-65240572432126512352010-02-11T19:47:00.002+08:002010-02-11T20:57:39.423+08:00Đôi mắt đó lại nhìn chằm chằm vào 1 khoảng không gian mờ ảo, nhìn như vô định, nhưng là ánh nhìn xoáy sâu vào đời nó, càng xoáy càng đau...<br /><br />Sẽ có bao đêm như thế này, chực chờ 1 giọng nói khó chịu từ hắn, hay cái trở mình đầy bạo lực, có đôi khi chỉ là 1 tiếng hằn giọng tàn nhẫn. Nằm bên cạnh tôi là mẹ, và bên cạnh mẹ là hắn, nhưng hắn nằm bên cạnh ai tưởng chừng chẳng có 1 ý nghĩa nào cả. Mẹ ngáy, như bao lần khác mẹ vẫn vậy, chỉ 1 điều khác rằng mẹ ngáy bên cạnh sự có mặt của hắn. Không biết rằng mẹ có nghe thấy sự khó chịu của hắn không nhưng dường như mỗi lần như vậy tiếng động của mẹ càng nhỏ hơn, có đôi khi lại to bất ngờ. Tôi vẫn thường thích thú chiêm ngưỡng nó 1 cách tò mò, nhưng trong hoàn cảnh như thế này, tôi lại sợ nó sẽ ngừng hẳn hơn bất cứ khi nào hết. Nó dừng có nghĩa là mẹ tôi đã tỉnh giấc như tôi. Vậy là trong đêm tối, có 2 đôi mắt mở trừng lên còn 1 đôi thì nay đã yên vị ngủ.<br /><br />Mắt muốn nhắm nhưng lệ chẳng ngừng rơi, cơ thể muốn ngủ nhưng tinh thần vẫn quẫy, bất giác hắt 1 tiếng thở dài, nghiền đôi mắt lại cố đi vào tâm tưởng để hi vọng không phải nghe thêm bất cứ 1 điều gì nữa, tai như vẫn văng vẳng có thể giật mình tỉnh dậy cả đôi ngươi...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-6524057243212651235?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-27969766712264556662010-02-05T00:37:00.002+08:002010-02-05T01:03:26.940+08:00It's pointless to try showing someone that you're happy when you're sad indeed. But if you can really act well, then do so.<br /><br />It's pointless to call someone when you're crying and then don't wanna tell what happened to that person. But if you want a blind and fake care or a 'dust bin', then do so.<br /> <br />It's pointless to try when yourself don't wanna stand up. But if you think you always have someone there to help, then do so and see the result. <br /><br />How many times I need to tell you that I don't need to see your fake smile or being happy when being with me? I want the real you and need to know about your stories. I will still scold you as usual but doesn't mean I don't wanna listen anymore. I want to see your progress to get out of that. I don't want to see laughs and tears. <br /><br />How many times more you wanna dig your own pain and memories when you don't dare to face them? But even if it unexpectedly comes back? What are you gonna do to make it better? Cry? Well, then practice to cry in front of the mirror and see how ugly and hopeless you are at that moment. I always do that and it reminds me how weak I am to try everyday to be stronger.<br /><br />How many times you pamper yourself and how many times more you will call me crying hopelessly like that? For something you thing you lost? No, I guess just him can make you cry like that. <br /><br />I don't like people to be so dependent on me. This is something very straight forward. When you call me just to show me that you're crying and then hang up, then you better don't. You want me to care for you at that moment? Well, you need to love yourself first! Your tear will become something I'm very sick of if it continues...<br /><br />And I know you're also not going to read this<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-2796976671226455666?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-38798609216937489462010-02-01T22:52:00.007+08:002010-02-02T00:03:07.800+08:00I was lucky to have a nice childhood to remember...<br />Though everything seems to fade away as time goes by<br /><br />A video during great grandma in 1996, 1999 and 2006<br />I had my bro held my hand to lead me around<br />I had him to volunteer to be a camera man<br />A boy he was, not as now<br />The boy that sang Happy Birthday song to my great grandma<br />The bro that I was very proud of...<br /><br />I had the aunty that worked as maid for my family for more than 7 years<br />It was the moment that I burst into tears since I didn't remember that she was there<br />She was even closer to me than my mom at that time<br />And I also went to her hometown and be noty there<br />At least she was also the one who went by my side for 1/4 of my life<br />I just really do wish to see her again...<br /><br />I had my aunt still looks quite fat<br />Not as skinny as now due to sickness<br />I had my cousin sister in ao dai and look stupid with short hair and shorter than me (haha! :p)<br />Not as tall as now as well as being more mature <br />I had mom with super short hair (hahaha!) in ao dai<br />Well, she was quite long time with that hairstyle and the saloon even gave her the videotape of some other styles. I still remember the song of the video though...<br />I still had me with dress and look kinda pretty (muahaha!)<br />I had my great grandma with me of course...<br /><br />I still had my dad singing some old song...<br /><br />And I have tears in my eyes for being able to feel all of them again...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-3879860921693748946?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-44873727484891484902009-11-17T01:31:00.010+08:002010-01-09T17:27:46.387+08:00The post title seems to be too serious<br />Though it is just an end to a semester haha!<br /><br />But what if it's an end to many other things but not just a semester?<br />An end of 3 years studying at Leisure Commerce Square?<br />For the new start at new campus next year?<br />An end of days sitting up there enjoying unforgettable memories?<br />And just sometimes can get back?<br />What if it's an end of the whole 4 years studying in Malaysia?<br />It would be the most miserable ending...<br /><br />I keep reminding me everyday to treasure all the remaining days, chances, and friends<br />Some of them are transferred to Australia next year<br />How many of them will still be here for graduation ceremony?<br />Anyway, is still too early to think of it<br />Just another thing whenever I think of, I feel sad<br />And happy too when I know I'm lucky enough to have chance to be here, to get to know them from FICM until now<br /><br />End year is coming<br />The Observer has been going on well since the day it was created<br />The blog that I check and update everyday along with the owner<br />The 1st blog that I feel proud of not for only me but also for her for being able to share her passion and at least feel happy because of it everyday<br />Smiles are there to be discovered every single minute by looking at it<br />Such an indescribable feeling<br /><br />I'm going to meet you soon<br />After more than 1 year which I think is long enough<br />To get back some of mine and give to you something I was supposed to give before it came to an end<br />I just have to prepare to talk to you seriously this time<br />I'm, somehow, still afraid to meet you<br />Since that feeling of being your 'life vest' never stops chasing me...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-4487372748489148490?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-83411612107473143862009-10-28T08:42:00.004+08:002009-10-28T09:18:25.196+08:00<div style="text-align: justify;">Yesterday this year was so different from last year, many things happened pulled me away from the feeling that I supposed to have as strong as before. And at the same time, many things happened from many people surrounding me remind me to treasure more, more and more every single thing they did for me...<br /><br />Just wanna say thanks for every concern and love from everyone<br />For yesterday...<br /><br />And today I wish to say thank you again for your semangat funny clip, professional model, props and costume haha<br />And of course because today is ur day too...<br /><br />Wish you fat birthday hohoho and smile as always <muack muack=""></muack><br /><muack muack=""></muack><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sueaz4CHC4I/AAAAAAAAADk/jJSIaiHTCKE/s1600-h/KIF_2984.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sueaz4CHC4I/AAAAAAAAADk/jJSIaiHTCKE/s200/KIF_2984.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397452894432070530" border="0" /></a>Love, Nhũn.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-8341161210747314386?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-53221112953778580832009-10-14T23:51:00.006+08:002009-10-15T06:05:32.638+08:00Yesterday...<br />You put me on your shoulders and brought me around the house when I was small<br />You cried and grabbed my hands to go with you<br />You sat and talked to me when we were having duck porridge<br />And you were also the only one who ate that with me, and peeled duck meat for me<br />You gave me a wild fruit small bag as an apology<br />You saw me off once at the airport<br />You told me not to worry anything between you and her<br />You saw me arrive once at the airport<br />You, she and I went to have lobster porridge, the shop I really liked but closed<br />You gave me 3 pieces of 100USD but I had to use all<br />You asked us everyday what we wanted to eat<br />You said that you had plenty of VN instant noodles and would send to me if I wanted<br />You and I went to watch football live once<br />I happily saw you arrive from oversea countries back home<br />I just ate at the beef noodles shop which is named your name<br />...<br /><br />Today...<br />I'm still very alike you in many senses<br />My life still goes on<br />But your life doesn't anymore...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;">For you, in my memories...<br />Rest in peace, dad...<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-5322111295377858083?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-81094176469359606372009-10-06T01:22:00.009+08:002009-10-06T02:16:52.611+08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sso1pfFch6I/AAAAAAAAADc/UJ1YvU_Sev0/s1600-h/Secret+Place.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sso1pfFch6I/AAAAAAAAADc/UJ1YvU_Sev0/s320/Secret+Place.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389178890937468834" border="0" /></a>Drew in May 2009<br />Live drawing 1<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sso1NLKU4KI/AAAAAAAAADU/YiEaul18Huc/s1600-h/Corn-Cake-Raisin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sso1NLKU4KI/AAAAAAAAADU/YiEaul18Huc/s320/Corn-Cake-Raisin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389178404552892578" border="0" /></a>Drew in May 2009<br />Live drawing 2<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sso04iPP3JI/AAAAAAAAADM/M7pN2UwT9r0/s1600-h/Departure+Lounge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/Sso04iPP3JI/AAAAAAAAADM/M7pN2UwT9r0/s320/Departure+Lounge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389178049970298002" border="0" /></a>Drew in June 2009<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/SsozrYxGJOI/AAAAAAAAADE/wYpdTmkSREc/s1600-h/Jie%27s+house.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgHvqd4BNMA/SsozrYxGJOI/AAAAAAAAADE/wYpdTmkSREc/s320/Jie%27s+house.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389176724577985762" border="0" /></a>Drew in July 2009<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My drawings<br />Normal pen and paper<br />Random moment<br />Random place<br />Full of mistakes, scribbles and deformed lines<br />Yet a dedication I wish to leave<br />For you<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-8109417646935960637?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-14903841205737975432009-10-04T20:31:00.002+08:002009-10-04T21:05:55.033+08:00The word that I don't know how it is like<br />The word that requires many people to make it really sound like<br />The word that brings happiness<br /><br />I've never been able to really enjoy any festival<br />Not New Year, Christmas, nor Mid-Autumn<br /><br />Yesterday<br />All that I remember and have been through<br />Was slightly different<br />A real Moon Cake festival held by Chinese<br />Though I happened to be the only one that don't really know their language<br />But I enjoyed and silently fit in as I always do<br /><br />I love that kind of lantern<br />So simple, fragile yet very interesting to play<br />I guess I missed it when I was small<br />Or is just because I don't remember how it was like?<br /><br />A combination of moments<br />Laughter, silence and observation<br />Even the moment we didn't say anything but just looked at the lantern that was hang on the tree and the candles burning<br />It also could convey message<br /><br />The festival that I know<br />Which brings people closer<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-1490384120573797543?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-15056098495409687072009-09-28T02:01:00.004+08:002009-09-28T22:59:50.445+08:00-January 2009-<br /><br />Because of the time you silently drop<br />The lost soul that I found, now I lose again<br />Like sand, my finger was rushing to hold back<br />But it keeps falling just like you do<br /><br />If someday you become so dry<br />And my eyes, will look around searching <br />Suppose that they secretly make a swing<br />For the sadness to fly away<br /><br />You are warm, but now also become cold<br />And I keep running around searching<br />To find the place that I can hide<br />And warm you up again<br /><br />My hand, has been strong for so many times<br />It won't be afraid of storm or any up and down<br />But now it keeps aching<br />When I myself catch the last of you<br /><br />If someday you don't drop anymore<br />And my eyes, will still look around searching<br />Though you're no longer here<br />Just the sadness that can't fade away...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">When you still can cry, it's still a happiness</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-1505609849540968707?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-91461862478829868372009-09-27T22:38:00.000+08:002009-09-27T22:39:53.967+08:00-July 2008-<br /><br />Có khác gì đâu 1 kiếp đời ngắn ngủi<br />Em nhỏ anh to biết dường nào<br />Em giàu anh nghèo có chi khác<br />Em có, anh không có <br />Những đôi điều trái ngược<br /><br />Tay em nhỏ đã chai sần thô ráp<br />Bản thì to mà ngón lại chẳng dài<br />Tìm tay anh để đan vào hàn lại<br />Mảnh sẹo đời có dễ nào nguôi<br /><br />Anh khác rồi<br />Một thời em gìn giữ<br />Cả cuộc tình những tưởng chẳng hề phai<br />Của ngày xưa nhìn anh trong ký ức<br />Tìm lại hòai dẫu biết chẳng được đâu<br /><br />Em khác rồi<br />Một thời anh đã có<br />Cả 1 vòng kim chỉ theo thời gian<br />Cả tình yêu em mong mỏi chờ đợi<br />Cả cuộc đời nếm đủ mọi niềm đau<br /><br />Em mất anh 1 chiều không trở gió<br />Ngỡ từ biệt là hội ngộ về sau...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-9146186247882986837?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9000908186623523476.post-88995878315985440012007-07-03T16:23:00.000+08:002009-09-25T23:36:23.682+08:00<div style="text-align: justify;">Today, once again, I created a new blog... (3 July 2007)<br /><br />Today (24 September 2009), I come back to this blog after leaving it for nothing for 2 years<br /><br />Suddenly remind me of how I started to be so curious to know how to design<br />From the easiest step to the harder one<br />All come with very special reasons<br /><br />I started with a simple 360 yahoo blog and just deal with position, simple kind of design, at that time, after I completed one, I was happy...<br /><br />I moved on with a forum, which was the most meaningful that I could do for my C1 though it is also somehow forgotten as time goes by. But after I completed that, I was happy...<br /><br />I made a risk to apply for a host for website from US, which I found the crucial step for me to know how to take risk. Therefore, I dare to discover more to learn. Though I cancelled the service, but I was happy...<br /><br />I started to discover css code after seeing some blogs with impressive design. My opera was the blog that followed me until today I decided to change here as a new beginning. A better blog which I find the easiest and most convenient to work with for both IE and Firefox. And no doubt that I'm happy now...<br /><br />In the future, I will have to learn more to really design a real website and more than that...<br /><br />Ya, that's one part of my paths. At least I wish to be a Multimedia Designer...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9000908186623523476-8899587831598544001?l=brooksky2710.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>brookskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15049860611613220296noreply@blogger.com2