fred.c.fred:
dear sauvage,
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
fjord
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
æ
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
We've been Shattered by Storms
fred.c.fred:
thought it would have been a pitch black stigmata, but instead she wore words of my own flesh, beneath it.
fred.c.fred:
a hundred days
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
(...)
fred.c.fred:
translation
fred.c.fred:
(...)