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This pkjh

Posted by sdfsd fdhtr on August 26, 2019 at 4:18 0 Comments

But change has given us new weapons. His sins trickled from his lips, one by one, trickled in shameful drops from his soul, festering and oozing like a sore, a squalid stream of vice. The lovely smell there was in the wintry air: the smell of Clane: rain and wintry air and turf smouldering and corduroy. He loved you as only a God can love.…



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