What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life.
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This video was uploaded to ssibasmatirice.com on 05-06-2024 17:12:50
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