The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 11-07-2024 15:28:45
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