if they could talk
The mules that pull the wagons in the French Quarter talk to me.
I can always tell what they’re thinking when I look at their faces.
This one hates the silly flowers on his head.
He told me so.
The mules that pull the wagons in the French Quarter talk to me.
I can always tell what they’re thinking when I look at their faces.
This one hates the silly flowers on his head.
He told me so.
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