On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. But I dare not accept it. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. 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. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. Then she shrugged. Easily.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOC4xNTcuMTA3IC0gMTgtMDUtMjAyNCAxMTo0NzoxOCAtIDE5NDMwODYzOA==
This video was uploaded to jiiney.com on 17-05-2024 22:14:39
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10
Origin resources: Resource Map: 1 - Resource Map: 2 - Resource Map: 3 - Resource Map: 4 - Resource Map: 5 - Resource Map: 6 - Resource Map: 7 - Resource Map: 8 - Resource Map: 9