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“Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. I spend many delightful hours thinking of the pleasant and beautiful things of life. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. They seldom arrive on the beach. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. Mild, you know, and boon.
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This video was uploaded to ccc999.shop on 31-05-2024 07:30:58
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