Agricia
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Your blond hair, falling onto your fragile pale shoulders, smells of meadow grass. The voice that is born in your chest is like the melody that angels play in the clouds. From the moment our eyes met in church, I lost all peace. In the whole universe, there is no more wonderful picture for me than a smile on your lips. Look into my eyes. There is only your reflection Agricius!
FL/610148/R
Data sheet
- Name of the Author
- Александр Чечитов Александрович
- Language
- Russian