Dmitry Glukhovsky. Future (№ 371622)
But she's not mad at me, but only stroking the head, stroking - and the poison comes out through my eyes, through my mouth, and I free, and breathe easy, and be weightless, as if my lungs were full of tears and couldn't breathe...
№ 371622 Added
MegaMozg 06-06-2019 / 03:16
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