She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. So she built a shrine. Lots of us are like that.
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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 19-07-2024 08:49:32
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