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Last night there had been no time. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so.
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This video was uploaded to gohardasht1.com on 31-05-2024 02:41:58
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