
MY AFRICAN QUEEN: She rose so gracefully like a scudding smoke. Drew a long refreshing breath....
and she drove her waist, and flew the tassels of her queenly apparel. The silent music mussed on! Her dainty dazzling hairs caressing her hip. Bare-footed, her virgin beautiful feet tip-toed to the unheard sweet songs. Her fingers like that of eagle’s wings, high on the naked tune’s wave and breath. Then she danced like the wind o'er the serene sea of my Africa, my Mother!
NONE PRINTS LIKE KODAK
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