Then she sang. The weed was all right. “Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. A silence ensued. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNi40OS4yMTIgLSAwMS0wNy0yMDI0IDAzOjA5OjEzIC0gMzU5NDIyMTgy
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