Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. It was a dead calm. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. You cannot possibly leave me here alone with Gerald. You think everything is harmless and simple, and so forth. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now.
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This video was uploaded to desenez.net on 11-07-2024 03:17:49
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