You’re such a strange girl. We can’t. “No! My father. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 08:40:20