A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting. Michelle’s eyes widened. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. Death belongs to God, young man.
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This video was uploaded to erdmanporsche.com on 29-05-2024 11:56:52
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