But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. She killed a man who was squatting outside of a freezing brick shanty on the southern edge of Chicago as he waited for his dealer. “Dear John,” she whispered. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMi4zMi42NyAtIDIyLTA5LTIwMjQgMDU6MzE6MTUgLSAyMTI3NDc1ODMy
This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 20-09-2024 05:41:17
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10