And I for one am not convinced of the innocence of the model: it is as if we let a criminal make up the law as he or she ambles along, reaving right and left.
Through a ceiling to floor mirror that covers an entire wall, I “smize” at my stunning reflection, having easily mastered the come-fuck-me look that's going to sell me millions of CDs.
I read the same paragraph, over and over. I saw Tamsin where Marilyn was, the white dress, the sexy baby voice.
When the tables are drawn, you shall hold a disputation with him. It will be sport to hear how you chop logic at your Universities yonder.
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