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Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. You never can tell. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-05-2024 12:03:13
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