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We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. He then unfolded his choice and held it before her face. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 10:17:31