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<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="1" width="100%" class="forumline"> <tr> <th class="thCornerL" width="22%" height="26">Autor</th> <th class="thCornerR">Wiadomość</th> </tr> <tr> <td width="22%" align="left" valign="top" class="row1"><span class="name"><a name=""></a><b>john2072</b></span></td> <td class="row1" height="28" valign="top"><table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tr> <td width="100%"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/xeon/images/icon_minipost.gif" width="12" height="9" alt="Post" title="Post" border="0" /><span class="postdetails">Wysłany: Śro 7:18, 02 Mar 2011<span class="gen"> </span> Temat postu: the red- headed fin</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><hr /></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><span class="postbody">breath inflates the sails of her lungs. Silence. <br />I gather up her reekingwasted body into my armsand she is perfectshe is my own perfect <br />beautiful Mama againfor just a momenteven as her bones jut against my breasts and her head <br />lollseven as her cancer-laden belly mimics fecundity she rises up in memory shininglaughing <br />released: free. <br />Footsteps in the hall. The door opens and Etta’s voice. <br />“Clare? Oh— <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://christianlouboutinforwomen.com/index.html" target="_blank" class="postlink">christian louboutins 2011</a></span>!” <br />I lower Mama back to the pillowssmooth her nightgownher hair. <br />“She’s gone.” <br />SaturdaySeptember 121998 (Henry is 35Clare is 27) <br />HENRY: Lucille was the one who loved the garden. When we came to visitClare would walk through <br />the front door of the Meadowlark House and straight out the back door to find Lucillewho was <br />almost always in the gardenrain or shine. When she was well we would find her kneeling in the <br />beds<span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.ghdhotsale.com" target="_blank" class="postlink">wee</a></span>ding or moving plants or feeding the roses. When she was ill Etta and Philip would <br />bring her downstairs wrapped in quilts and seat her in her wicker chairsometimes by the <br />fountainsometimes under the pear tree where she could see Peter workingdigging and pruning <br />and grafting. When Lucille was well she would regale us with the doings of the garden: the red- <br />headed finyilai: <br /><a href="http://www.jordanheelsoutlet.com" target="_blank" class="postlink">nike high heels</a> <br /> <br /> <br /> <a href="http://www.foruminvestorindonesia.com/viewtopic.php?p=187100#187100" target="_blank" class="postlink">jist edjackly trueen no jokin' en no liesMars Tom</a></span></td> </tr> </table></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" height="1" class="spaceRow"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/xeon/images/spacer.gif" alt="" width="1" height="1" /></td> </tr> </table>
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