it is okay it is okay it is okay
Oh why oh why is the flea market stall still unsure. I want that stall. I want to clear my wardrobe for more clothes. Daddy doesn't bother, but I do. I really really do.
we vainly contemplate a wind we feel that stirs the blooming meadows, the meadows made imaginary by this stop.
1 Comments:
who daddy?
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