She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. They were actually pissed at me that I quote broke up with you unquote. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMjAuMjM3LjIxIC0gMDMtMDYtMjAyNCAxNjozNzowNSAtIDY0MzkyNDI0NQ==
This video was uploaded to g-zaporozhe.info on 30-05-2024 17:09:26
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