“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. It’s just that I want to say. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical.
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This video was uploaded to newyorkairportlimo.mobi on 30-05-2024 19:06:37
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