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She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket. I was helpless. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. “You have the temperament,” he said.

Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMC4yMzcuMjQgLSAyMi0wOS0yMDI0IDE4OjM0OjU3IC0gMTU5MDYzMjg5OA==

This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 18-09-2024 18:29:23

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