She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. ” Michelle spat. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 17-05-2024 13:58:07
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