‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto.
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This video was uploaded to motorsport-fotografie.info on 04-06-2024 05:40:00
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