She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Sheppard, smiling through her tears.
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This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 29-07-2024 12:50:54
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