’ ‘Ah, that is good,’ sighed the lady. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. Mother and Son XI. ’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Too late she realised that Emile was not trying to escape. ‘Merci, dieu.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNC40NC41MyAtIDI5LTA5LTIwMjQgMDQ6NDI6MzggLSA1ODYwNjA1ODI=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 16:30:05