The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. "We work together no more. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. Your pets are gone. “Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked.
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This video was uploaded to ineel.net on 12-06-2024 23:23:40
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