Her English was halting. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk.
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This video was uploaded to fairlopwaters.info on 31-05-2024 21:25:42
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