One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. My trouble is with your sister. “Yeah, I’ve heard that story. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. But we get over it.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 15:17:33
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