Regret is the final breath of the weak.

Brian W. Matthews

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They lied, you know,” said Cpl. Allan Richmond. He hugged the
wall next to Owens. Beside him, PFC Bucky Hatton crouched low, a
Browning 1911 semiautomatic gripped tightly in his hand.

“Who?” asked Bart, glad to be out of the wind and rain, even if it
was only for a short time.

“The assholes who said France was beautiful.

Brian W. Matthews

Mots clés travel

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