Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food? Of course I am. Why? Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.
Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food? Of course I am. Why? Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.
Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food? Of course I am. Why? Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.
Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food? Of course I am. Why? Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.
I love her dearly, but I can’t live with her for a day without feeling my whole life is wasting away. — Miss Kenton, The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro