Iza Memories, Little Town of Andes : creerÃase the population, after touring the valley, went insane and charted a single street. Thus under the ridge, was bet feverishly as spring. In alcohol sales is mixed with sunshine. Their wives and flowers speak the dialect of colors. And the stream that runs like a horse, dragging the hens in February and May. They go through the same thing the priest sidewalk, the cow and the light season. Here things happen no more significance than roses. As rain threat, has become the late it was dark blonde. Looks like a perfume the breeze and opens a new twist. A deployed sing me a smile and a sigh me down
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