met a woman who smelled like summer rain, which reached storm surge, intense, unexpectedly but aquatic unforgivable ... Was unavoidable and indispensable his eyes. If I again came across strongly she would. And until the end of the [lips of salt, peaches and breasts, hands, ice, moon chin]. But a storm surge was very young, past-tense moments in his presence came remission. Flight, and the disappearance. His forgetfulness.
The rest is silence.
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