Normally, he would not have blamed him for avoiding the latter because the jackets of s
Francis Sarabiahar citeratför 3 månader sedan
ales, in the sickly yellow waistcoat he wore on weekdays, was perched on a high stool behind the bar, reading the racing results to Old Crubog.
Osama Afaq Ali Photographerhar citeratför 7 månader sedan
grown lovingly in the sandy soil by the estuary and as smooth to the touch as sea-scoured beach pebbles. The man who was not moved to eat the jackets of such potatoes was nothing if not a scoundrel.
bingbongbingbong690har citeratför 6 år sedan
In the warmth of her whisperings he found poetry, even a sense of afflatus.
bingbongbingbong690har citeratför 6 år sedan
The rule we follow in London is no fewer than the Graces and no more than the Muses.’
bingbongbingbong690har citeratför 6 år sedan
after all she’s mine in a way she can never be yours.
bingbongbingbong690har citeratför 6 år sedan
His or hers, I’ll be the one who’ll feel it.
bingbongbingbong690har citeratför 6 år sedan
Sometimes it smells like a field of rotting cabbage and sometimes like sweaty feet
bingbongbingbong690har citeratför 6 år sedan
I came to steal a pear,
bingbongbingbong690har citeratför 6 år sedan
Though the Canon might conceivably shoot you on the run, he’d never stoop low enough to shoot a sitting duck.’