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Beethoven's Last String Quartet

I love your old eyes. I love where they take me, to castles in the park overlooking the lake, with quiet voices explaining passions, to lessons taught with charm. We could laugh in that muffled way with gently tightened throats. We use things made of polished wood and glass genuine things. We are in control. I love that.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Book: Shattered Sighs