How wise and calm the young can be.
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With giant paws the lion kneads the undulating stone, his purr the merest undertone.
None of us would say we’re at our all time best.
I don’t knock anyone over as I weave and dodge, marking the concourse with my sweat.
By now everyone is well acquainted with the summer’s sweltering heat.
Maybe stranger is a concept we acquire with age.
I’ve got nothing but time on a Sunday afternoon.
I believe cool feet can sometime be a little bit like a drug.
Meringue base and cream filling topped with chestnut spread.
A studio apartment in the heart of Paris sounds romantic.