J.F. Penn

  • Hatun Al-Qarniцитируетв прошлом году
    but Morgan moved again, ducking and rolling across the carpet to a better position.
    She fired again.
    The second shot found its mark in the man’s forehead, and he crashed to the floor.
    Morgan stood and walked over to the fallen body of her assailant, her heart pounding with the adrenalin of battle. She flicked on the lights, holding her gun on him, just in case. Blood spattered her books and the mandala print. Brain matter dripped down the bookcase onto the carpet
  • neoцитируетв прошлом году
    hide in. She had run through
  • Osama Afaq Ali Photographerцитируетв прошлом году
    as the sacred flames consumed the corpses, releasing them from the suffering of repeated
  • Osama Afaq Ali Photographerцитируетв прошлом году
    Rain soaked the ashes of the dead into the winding Varanasi streets as rivers of mud ran down to the holy river Ganges.
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