Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMi4xMTMuNDEgLSAyMi0wNy0yMDI0IDExOjQ1OjQ4IC0gMTM0NTU1MzcwNA==
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