I know that all women wait. They wait for future life, for all those images forged in solitude, for all that forest that moves toward them; for all that immense promise that is a man; a pomegranate that suddenly is opened and showed its shining red seed; a pomegranate like a ripe mouth with a thousand sections. Later those hours lived imagination,
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add meeee!
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Of course, of course. :9
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