T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. ” Anna was silent. He paced faster, stomping around. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. 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.
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This video was uploaded to tructiepcauthongthuongde.org on 20-09-2024 02:51:37
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