It fits your style. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. Only I do not care to write about anything else. ” “He was probably right,” she declared. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 06:38:05
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