’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. A failure! She must write herself down a failure! At her age, with her ambitions, with her artistic temperament and creative instincts, she was yet to be denied all coherent means of expression. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 19-09-2024 12:23:34
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