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” It was certain that he was not there. There’s nothing a girl can do that isn’t sweated to the bone. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. I packed them with the other few things I owned. I knew where I would go next: Florence.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 22:48:02