She doesn’t ask for stories, we just tell them. We think she hears, but can’t know for sure. Her countenance stares, unblinking.
She doesn’t ask for stories, we just tell them. We think she hears, but can’t know for sure. Her countenance stares, unblinking.
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“Whenever I dwell for any length of time on my own shortcomings, they gradually begin to seem mild, harmless, rather engaging little things, not at all like the staring defects in other people’s characters.”
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