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She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes.
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This video was uploaded to theblogfullofgames.com on 21-09-2024 09:43:05
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