Black is white.
How can pain and peace that you brought to me be easily resolved? The rain stopped.
The violinist was playing in the street, and he was lost in thought.
In the wet winter in the Mediterranean, the handsome priest burst into the prostitute, like a naive but sturdy stag — after all,
people didn’ t bother to cover up their dark side and cunning in front of her; but she considered him a god dressed in bright and clean clothes.
They spent a wonderful winter together.
With this experience, the Scriptures could no longer put him in peace. The priest forgave all sins except those of himself; he hesitated.
"Don't disturb him,
wait for him to be willing,
until the autumn wind takes her away."
With cedar as the pillar and pine as the rafter, the woman he loved lied on the vanilla slope.
From then on, he had a wandering life.
White is black.
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