On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She was given a glimpse of his soul. He was not particularly grateful for the present situation. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength.
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This video was uploaded to hkbifen.com on 31-05-2024 07:47:37
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