Let beating around the mirror, and the queen of spades is at the peak and stalls - talk to me about basketball, about the secrets of our master kitchen. Talk to me about the people you love this offseason. Let jealous Slavik Witch and King Stach collects chess horses to hunt wild burn conscious, dormant in the unconscious. Let resound from dawn swords! Let fly into the basket without getting tired! Did you ever look at it not from the epicenter of the launch pads. Let Infanta reset curlers and unicorns take a pencil to roses bloom between chronicles for nobility discourse and glamor ... discuss gold and copper, on the line between third world feminism funny and moody. Talk to me about the carnival of gray cardinals in dusty helmets, about topics that you do not touch him, until the time of the "X" vysezhvayuchy heart-rending. Let pulsates in tungsten light bulbs, winking divine special third world feminism forces. Talk in spite of snow that hid the ashes and diamonds.
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