She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. She rapped again, louder. I don’t mind it. She spoke slowly. There is a tragedy to come. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy. It is the immediate inspiration of confidence; it alleviates pain, because we know by that smile that pain is soon to leave us; it becomes the bulwark against our depressive thoughts of death; and it is the promise that we still have a long way to go before we reach the Great Terminal. We just want to ask her a few questions about an old murder case.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 17-05-2024 16:33:56
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