How could I allow myself to be interrupted when I was immersed in sin and darkness. In the feasting and feasting, in the decadence, in the arms of a man who came uninvited one day, crying happily, laughing wantonly, hypocritical and proud, they said, this is called a plaything.
Playthings are extraordinary playthings, romance is unusual romance, and love... Is naturally extraordinary love.
PS: