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It was a haunted place. ’ “Crude, I admit. " 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. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. ’ He nodded.
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This video was uploaded to danilocalvaresi.com on 18-07-2024 15:59:31
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