She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. For a space he rode the whirligig. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 01-10-2024 02:02:59