He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’ you know.
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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 10-06-2024 03:14:15
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