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Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Something to tell you. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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This video was uploaded to mine-tec.com on 28-06-2024 11:54:14
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