My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. They will claim particular attention hereafter.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 14:26:36