Rebecca:
You're wrong. The good things I remember about my father - the walks we took, the fairy tales he read to me - they all really happened.
Ernessa:
He read you other fairy tales that you forgot.
[singing]
Ernessa:
# My mother, she butchered me. My father, he ate me. My sister, little Anne-Marie, she gathered up the bones of me, and tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper. Tweet, tweet, what a pretty bird am I! #
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 07:23
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