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She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. Your disobedience be upon your own head. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. ‘Don’t tell me. Then Capes’ footsteps approached. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery.
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This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 22-06-2024 00:15:44
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