imagine the perpendicular bit of the rigorous asphyxiation, when the air refuses to be welcome... to come straight into our.....
there is nothing to be done when thinking about delights. the greatest treat... a sponge with vinegar atop a cross. i forgot about the nails... and then, the religion, of course.
they refuse to make things like they used to.
Posted by Jojo at November 28, 2007 12:23 AM