He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. The winters were terrible in cold climates, and she often had been driven to dig herself large underground pits where she waited it out like a mole in the cold months. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. “This,” he said, and then: “No! Is this sweeter? Very well.
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This video was uploaded to suzume-news.club on 23-09-2024 07:16:39