For me, no period in my life is sad as it was in November. I don't know if I'm sad and sorry if I'm sorry about November, which has the same sadness every year. Every year I feel like a prisoner waiting for his executioner in November myself.
Other than that, the only woman I love to realize in life is the birthday of November. Every day that I have filled with beauties every year, I will now collapse with all its darkness and weight. Every year he reminds me of his smile and face.
Look at the fate of fate. It was like every day of 365 days had entered the sack, and our divorce date coincided with two days before his birthday. Every day two days before the day we were happy, we went to court and got divorced. Even as the universe had directed all its powers against me.
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