‘You said it. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. . She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. Sebastian physically restrained her as she hit and scratched at him, trying to touch her mother who went swiftly into her death throes.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-07-2024 21:29:50
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