Martin:
No one has eyes like yours.
Anne Pedersdotter:
What are they like? Childlike? Pure and clear?
Martin:
No, deep and mysterious. But in their depths I see... a trembling, quivering flame.
Anne Pedersdotter:
...which you have kindled.
Martin:
Let's go to the birches.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 07:07
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