Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. It was decrepit and too large. Get me an interview with her. . It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDUyLjE0LjgyLjIxNyAtIDIyLTA5LTIwMjQgMTk6MjQ6NTkgLSA5ODA4NzU1OTM=
This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 17:56:00
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10