segunda-feira, 2 de junho de 2008

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She was that woman who always seemed to be passing by on days when the shade was green under the tunnels of oaks and elms in the old town, her face shifting with the bright shadows as she walked, until it was all things to all people. She was the fine peaches of summer in the snow of winter, and she was cool milk for cereals on a hot early-June morning.
Ray Bradbury - A story of love

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