He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart.
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This video was uploaded to lewoagencies.com on 01-06-2024 08:19:57
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