You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she suffered monthly. On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. ’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important. I too, Anna, have watched and read of your success with—I must confess it—some misgiving. ” Anna measured out the coffee.
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