It jars with all my ideas. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. I was—I was a corespondent. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ0LjkzLjkgLSAyNC0xMC0yMDI0IDEwOjE5OjA1IC0gMTk3NDgyMzA5MA==
This video was uploaded to betosfer.xyz on 21-10-2024 05:22:11
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8