Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. Stop! we must shut the door, or they'll catch us. .
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 18-09-2024 02:26:02
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