" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. We dressed it in a little music. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them.
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This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 17-09-2024 19:44:40
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