”
She threw away the end of her cigarette. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the
insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. It would be easy enough for me to write an eloquent letter about something
else. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’
But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. Grace-church Street was entirely
deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears;
or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. She wanted to think. . I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. All
the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a
house when people leave it in the summer.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE1NC4yNTMgLSAxNS0wNy0yMDI0IDE4OjA5OjI4IC0gMTA4Nzk2NDM0NA==
This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 14-07-2024 10:21:21