If I could ever run out of encomium for the grace I was fortunate enough to catch, then I would be unappreciative, and she would be undermined and underrated. Maybe it was her eyes or the way she exulted an enigmatic mysterious pull. Or maybe, it was her eyes.
She euphorized every delicateness of her voice with a touch of euphoria making every living thing around quiver in envious excitement. She moved with small motions but the exotic pantomime seduced all the manhood present to the brink of self-control.

And I would sacrifice myself to steal another look that makes all other men fools if they didn't.
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