Think! Outside it’s cool. The young girl has walked quickly; the veil is moist from her cold breathing. Little drops of liquid shine when you look at the lace.
The fan seizes her and presses their burning lips to her fluid breathing. The veil that is moist which discolors and holds the dreadful odor of chemical dye, penetrates to the child’s lips, moistens their mustache. He will not taste the lips of their beloved, he tastes the dye of the lace moistened with cool breathing. Yet, such as the poet, we’d all exclaim:
Consequently, the worthiness with this caress being totally a question of convention, we ought to take care not to abuse it.
Well, my dear, We have many times pointed out that you might be extremely clumsy. Continua a leggere