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He looked no longer at his wife. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. Or felt it. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. That wasn’t even the worst thing. "My worst fears are realized.
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This video was uploaded to jiiney.com on 05-06-2024 16:07:47
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