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babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And
babalaas:“ What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of manYou cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And

published on: 2015-07-22 08:52:00

♥♥ Désir Noir ♥♥

♥♥ Désir Noir ♥♥

From the Ash

From the Ash

Left Front Art

Left Front Art

ohthentic:  Oh

ohthentic: Oh

ohthentic:  Oh

ohthentic: Oh

ohthentic:  ugly773:  raggedick:  nik hampshire x mark shiber

ohthentic: ugly773: raggedick: nik hampshire x mark shiber