An act of violins.
He couldn't handle his lacquer
Me: your mother, why W: Stop acting like you're 12. M: (thinking) I dodged that bullet again.
Open the door, hand him the cash and take the pizza
An Algo-rhythm.
A: You get light music.
A: A cello burns longer.
Vladislov, baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more... I'm sorry..
We abuse