I drove down South Parkway. Who did I spy coming out of a fast sheet joint at Forty-sixth Street? One Pocket with a young broad from big foot country.
His weak chin was covered with stubble; as he approached, he pulled a greasy cap away to show a head on which the hair had retreated at either side to leave a single wavering line like the crest of an old and dirty burginot.
And that jiboney across the hall. He makes life worse than it is. Where he gets his money for booze, who knows?
China's epic traffic jam vanished [title of article]
vanished
アカウントを持っていませんか？ 新規登録
アカウントを持っていますか？ ログイン
DiQt（ディクト）
無料
★★★★★★★★★★
