“She can’t. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth.
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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 10-06-2024 17:39:20
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