“Because I hate you!” She spat. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. He went to Harvard instead. She felt herself shaking again.
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This video was uploaded to donnematureporche.top on 07-07-2024 23:11:55
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