Tag: Trust

Meditation 163 ~Braxton’s No Chef Virgil~

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I’ve led Virgil to food and water, but he’s not sick… Um, maybe in the head because he wants to eat on a pillow. And where do I take my meals? In bed? But the last good one was on the couch eating Chinese with Braxton’s Aunt. Braxton’s No Chef Virgil

Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Meditation 163 ~Braxton’s No Chef Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… I am currently starring in Mommie Dearest or Daddy Dude. Not that I’ve published a book, Inspector Echo.

I’m writing again on a drizzly Monday afternoon from bed. I can’t afford laziness.

The Day Job is calling this week. Aren’t I blessed? Shouldn’t I show some GRATITUDE?

When was it again that those two young brothers got fired? A week or so ago. How could I forget? I’ll tell you how. I’m reeling over the five dollars I paid on Onlyfans. Wasted!

Inspector Echo, I have to say so. Considering that I’ve now failed five out of six Impossible Things. And yes, it’s only Monday, December 9, 2024. Um, Brave New World?

I’m still reading Aldous Huxley’s novel. If memory serves, SPOILER ALERT: we’re getting to that part where Bernard Marx introduces John to his father. It saves Bernard from the DHC.

Yes, Inspector, I’ve read the story before. When my father turned me on to Animal Farm and 1984. And I wish I could say that I’m spending all my cash on books and that’s why…

GASP! I’m not eating. Feed your head, as the song goes. And before “your” madness… I’ve got around five thousand in the bank. I got another grand over PayPal way…

President EWW Donald Trump won’t be helping me. But let’s talk about here and now. As always, I want my son back. Money won’t bring Braxton back from the dead. I’d like a medium-rare steak for dinner tonight. But Hank Hill don’t pay my bills, Inspector. I want Satan’s Sorority Girls 8. But what’s most important. Virgil is not eating!

I’ve been here before, haven’t I? Inspector, if I went to Braxton’s Room/My Library/Virgil’s Room and pushed his pillow in front of the food and water… Yes, Virgil would eat. And I don’t know why. But I refuse. Virgil’s been in the room all day, Inspector.

Several times, I have guided him to the bowls, and what’s that saying… You can lead a horse to water or a dog. Do I need to be paying his vet bills when, again, I have nothing but a boy with a full bowl while I subsist on sixty-second pasta and shredded chicken for fajitas?

Virgil will eat his treats, and I swear Braxton was spoiled until the very end. What will it take, Daddy Dude? Braxton’s No Chef Virgil

“You pays your money and you takes your choice” ― Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

1410 Days Without B III, Day 851 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 162 ~Virgil On B’s Downgrade~

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I hope he, she, or they are not like me; I hope they understand. Fatherhood is the epitome of manhood. A man raises his wife and children higher than himself. It worked for B. He got sent to Heaven. Uh, low. But myself. “Virgil On B’s Downgrade”

Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Meditation 162 ~Virgil On B’s Downgrade~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Above myself? Of course. But my love is like hope. I keep none for myself.

Uh, you married a geek. I can only tell you a little about Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, etc. But nevertheless, a geek. I read, and I know things. Game Of Thrones? With all my time off, not counting when you’re reading this, you would think I would catch up with some pop culture. Wrestling, Wickedness, the Wh***dom of my novel. I’m powering down.

Today is Thursday, December 6, 2024. And I am a shell of my former self. Please, haven’t I been this way since I lost my boy, my Braxton? And what about Virgil? He’s so bored.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m a downgrade from who had Virgil first. Who loved him first? He’s got comfy spots and cool water. So Cheers!

But not for me. Every day, it’s like I have to make myself so much worse. What so you’ll leave. No! Never! Ever! And if losing my firstborn didn’t do that… I still mourn him.

Existence has been forever and always downgraded without Braxton. But it could be worse. I could be Ted Mosby, forever pining away for another woman while I have our family. If a man finds an angel… And I have you, my love. His duty, honor, and privilege is to build her a Heaven. And if a man touches the sky… That’s where Heaven is? Hmm.

A man and woman must show their children the stars. The twinkle in father’s eye.

Seriously? Am I trying to be a somewhat decent writer?

I’d settle for being a decent father and friend and not too effing shabby in the sack as a husband, my love. And that’s the problem. It feels wrong to desire more but then to live with desiring less or not at all. There’s being indifferent. At the same time, if I choose what I want, what does it make me? The guy that let the vet euthanize Braxton. Love?

You know what I wanted to say. What’s a word for censorship, sadness, and disgust all rolled into one? And let’s not forget depravity. Is that why I want to do specific things with you in bed? Because I’m not worthy of an angel. Or a friend like Braxton. But fatherhood? Virgil On B’s Downgrade

1409 Days Without B III, Day 850 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 161 ~Dad And B Spotified~

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I don’t know the last song B III heard on his last ride. I didn’t sing him to sleep as he lay on the vet’s table. 70 days later, I almost punched out my boss as I listened to B III’s playlist on Spotify. 2021 Wrapped to 2024’s Uh… Dad And B Spotified

Monday, December 9, 2024

Meditation 161 ~Dad And B Spotified~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… And are you past Tupac yet? Your past before me. But a future without me. But again, I am…

Here, Happy, and saying Hello. Not from a place of Doublethink, a Brave New World. And don’t say It Can’t Happen Here. There’s a reason, Dad, we speak through music. And not books. However, there is a line that comes to mind from time to time. But you would read, and I would sleep. That’s a dream you still have. That you’ll read to my siblings someday. But until then, I’ll keep saying it. I’m right here, Dad, right beside you. My presence is a constant in your life. Though I would prefer it if I were lying under that table as you worked. That’s back to normal. It is…

Not ACCEPTANCE? Again, Dad, we don’t do books. And all those books you’ve read about me, without me, all say the same thing. Kate McGahan…

Leave it to a grieving mother to show my Dad the way. But even before you started writing out my story. Then, we wrote the story together. There was silence, not peace but quiet. My transition. When today shouldn’t exist and tomorrow would never arrive. The time with me and without. Dad, to simply be. It was the second longest time we had ever been apart. But I will never forget when you’d hold me, those shared moments that we both cherish. Always and forever.

Daddy, you would sing to me. Sometimes, you’d change the words, but it was always about us. And that is how I knew how to reach you. There have been other ways. But like a Bumblebee, I’d buzz through your ear. That wasn’t a nickname…

Also, our song didn’t make it to our Spotify list. When you aren’t dreaming about dead men or fathers like you were last night. You’re dreaming about my future stepmom.

Well, no. Not any Yabbos, but there were two women in particular. Cherry and Csapunch.

Dad, I swear you have a type when it comes to women. But when it comes to music, my father. There is so much I want to say to you. And this year, indeed, this very moment in both our lives. Let me say that again. Our lives because I’m still alive. These words. Proof.

The click-clack of my paws on the floor, or your fingers on the keyboard, and communicating with Virgil. Our songs, Daddy. Dad And B Spotified

1408 Days Without B III, Day 849 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 159 ~Braxton Is History Virgil~

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I’ve been watching 1984 Lore and reading Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. Amazon is telling me it’s my history to read Christmas Erotica. Did you see our next president? Braxton isn’t here to help me survive this next term. Braxton Is History Virgil.

Saturday, December 7, 2024

Meditation 159 ~Braxton Is History Virgil~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… Does that mean I’m becoming more like MAGA? When I’m down, I think of my Braxton.

I’ve had my share of struggles, including moments of self-harm, largely influenced by my father. But the most intense period of me existing was when Braxton ‘passed away.’ The desire to leave because of my father was in stark contrast to the need to stay for my son. It’s ironic.

Stupidity? At the end of the day, I’m better than MAGA. Do you know why? I know my history. And yes, sometimes it sucked. Some parts make me sick. And yes, sometimes I was the skeevy one… Do you remember why I even started this blog? To share? My madness…

Lunalesca, if I recall, I was mad at some skinny brunette or trying to get her pants, whatever. It’s history. And that’s what I’ve been doing lately, studying history. Before…

The United States of America is history. Yes, I know what today is, Pearl Harbor. But more to the point, I’ve been reviewing the book, 1984. My father got me to read that, Lady Lu.

So it wasn’t all bad? The past. You wouldn’t know that from history. We’re not allowed to celebrate the triumphs that came from the tragedies. It’s like everything was perfect as long as a group of people lived in perpetual turmoil and terror of another group of people, Lunalesca. And it’s like one of my history teachers would spout relentlessly:

“History is Written by the Victors.” ― Winston Churchill? Unknown

And I always wanted to say history is written by the survivors, the breathing Lunalesca. Somehow. Someway, the truth would get out. And now I see it torn apart, Lunalesca.

History is written by the sword. It’s just another way of saying by the victor. And maybe that’s what my dream meant last night. I saw Zorro fighting Captain Love. But I couldn’t see their swords. They went back and forth, swinging their hands to and fro. But for not.

So what was the dream telling me? It was set in the past, and there was no way to move on to the future except to run the enemy through. Run away, escape. Or run into the enemy, and then what? End up with my hand in a jar. My head in another. Being history.

Only after I tell Braxton’s story. Braxton passed. Virgil’s present. And my future… I’m the victor. Braxton Is History Virgil

1406 Days Without B III, Day 847 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 156 ~Let’s B Edgy Virgil~

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Livin’ on the Edge, Livin’ on a Prayer, living for the love of you. I feel like I’m toppling over. “NaNoWriMo” ended, and I barely won that. Everything feels like it’s overflowing. And all that edging before breaking on the 1st. “Let’s B Edgy Virgil”

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Meditation 156 ~Let’s B Edgy Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… What else is new? Um, pushing Virgil to the edge of the bed. That’s the big one. Right?

Considering how cold it’s been. Then, one of the neighbor’s kids said they were worried about Virgil. And did I forget to buy another dose of medication? Uh, the money…

That was never a question when Braxton was around. I still remember when Braxton got sick. And the one vet at Banfield I openly “disliked” saved him. And the way the guy looked at me… When I tried to take my own life by starvation and dehydration, my Old Man didn’t want to pay my medical bills either. But Braxton is innocent. So is Virgil.

And while I wouldn’t give Virgil up for anything, the thought of what if I had left him on the other side of that fence? The edge of freedom or what, Inspector Echo? It’s a fear that haunts me now.

When Virgil has tried to cuddle these past few mornings, I’ve pushed him away. Really! I’ve gone so far as to move a pillow between him and me as I read or waste time, Inspector.

Virgil hasn’t fallen. And the drop wouldn’t hurt him. Contrary to popular belief. Virgil runs around here. He jumps up and down. V can climb stairs. He barks, cries, dreams…

Probably about someone much better than me. I know. I wish I had fallen into a grave when my feet hit the floor. Didn’t I talk about having a dream about dead men last week? Maybe. All I know is today, I woke up to the sound of Johnny Cash’s Ain’t No Grave. My Braxton.

What you needed to hear…

“Do you wish to be the son who gives his father what he asks for or what he needs?” Legion

When did I get all religious? It’s that time of the year. Or am I upset that some blonde temptress broke me the day after No Nut November? Inspector, I’ve gone from nurses to dancers and gymnasts. I gave $10.00 to a “secretary” on Onlyfans. And now nuns and angels. Talk about being on the edge. Or flashing my “package,” and why. The edge, huh.

Willy’s Wanton Writings And Whacking

Madness. I’m on the edge of finishing “my” novel. I give myself far too much credit with NaNoWriMo being over. But I won for the first time in years. I’m on the edge of finishing another book. I’m upset that I’ve broken my Christmas tradition. You see today’s date, Echo. I’m existing on the edge. Still, Let’s B Edgy Virgil.

1403 Days Without B III, Day 844 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 155 ~To B Humiliated, Virgil~

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During NaNoWriMo, was I ashamed of what I was writing? And now I’m embarrassed that these hands aren’t given the keys to the Day Job when I’ve been there over a decade and my “boss” has been there, um, two years… Oh, To B Humiliated, Virgil

Tuesday, December 3, 2024

Meditation 155 ~To B Humiliated, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? But as much as I love my firstborn son? Or how about RELATIONS? Yet Humiliation…

No love, I’m not talking about my being humiliated, “doing the deed.” Don’t get me wrong. I’m into some worrisome, wicked, and WTF kinks and fetishes in the throes of passion. Spanking? Yeah, I have issues. But I’m not talking about any of those. Later…

Dearest, today I’m talking about people. My Dad, ha-ha. My father. Memories of my old Day Job. And the people I meet daily. If I wanted any early Christmas present besides getting my dog/son back. Or the almighty dollar. The destruction of MAGA. Starting with its leader, Donald Trump. I would decide never to be humiliated ever again. Why don’t I try not to wake up in the morning? Today was one of those days, my love. More Humiliations Galore!

It’s why I tend to surround myself with so many beautiful things. Choosing not to be humiliated is like choosing not to breathe. It’s a nice thought, but don’t give me hope that it won’t happen again. I’m already tearing up. But I’m not ashamed to cry. Not for B…

And then play the song “He’s My Son.” Niagara Falls, baby doll. I’m not ashamed that I love Braxton more than my life. Hell! I’m still reading “The Heartache of Pet Loss: Losing Your Best Friend.” And if I ever in a million years would say that what I did was the right thing. It would be purely on the grounds that he didn’t have me shame him. Poor boy.

There was this movie, love…

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
Love Story

Love means never having to be ashamed of being who you are. And I don’t love who I am. And so here I am, embarrassed. But who am I to you? Husband, Hero, a hell-bound best friend. How about a humiliated human being? I’ve been watching a few things all about men who would be heroes if just for one day. Only to end up as influencers, showing what not to do. Crucified. Or locked in the Ministry of Love. Um, 2023’s Share, The Book of Clarence, and 1984. I’m not ashamed to admit wanting Suzanna Hamilton, aka Julia. But to live ashamed of keys, knowledge, and keeping my cowardice. Oh, To B Humiliated, Virgil.

1402 Days Without B III, Day 843 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 154 ~B The Soft Things~

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I’ve been sleeping hard the last few days. No, I haven’t. Eww! Where’s V? On his pillow someplace. He needs a new one. Walmart ain’t exactly known for quality. And I was busy making the house a soft place for B’s aunt to land. B The Soft Things.

Monday, December 2, 2024

Meditation 154 ~B The Soft Things~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… right there beside you, Always. Have faith. It’s not any of the strange drinks lifting your arms up. Right?

But it might take a while. Don’t think about “THAT DAY.” But the many days that there were, you would come back to me, angry, sad, confused, and all the above, and you would wrap an arm around me and just go to sleep. You remember the days you would return, and I would jump into your arms. Even on your worst days, your arms would beat sitting on the hardwood floor. And you know how I felt about sitting anywhere that didn’t have a cushion for my tail. Speaking of tales, I was there with you and my aunt on Saturday. Well, to you, she’s my aunt. But to me, she’s The Most Beautiful Girl in the World, Daddy.

Always and forever, she’s soft.

And I don’t mean to say she’s not tough. Hardcore. A Survivor. It’s easier to hear from a pair of those ear thingies you wear than the rough voice of a dead man. So what does that mean for me now that you’re listening, Daddy? You still have some of my fur. My comfy spots…

I never yielded! And as you can see, I am not dead!
T’Challa, Black Panther

Yes, Dad, we talked about your dream here in this place. The Void? The Endless Dark? A place where there is no darkness? The Rainbow Bridge? If anything, Dad, it doesn’t matter if I’m wide awake or dead asleep… I’m sorry, bad joke. I’m happy being comfortable. And where am I most comfortable? Anywhere with you. Even Virgil sees that. He feels that you know. Between you and my aunt…

When Virgil sat there as you and she watched movies, you couldn’t push Virgil away.

I’m making an observation. You have to appreciate the soft things. Look at me, Daddy.

I’m as soft as the silence on a really good day. The song that plays that reminds you of me. The sheets on the bed that you wrap yourself in when you dread tomorrow, today. The world is a hard enough place. And when you rescued Virgil, you took responsibility. What, to put a soft pillow under his tail? Amongst other things. My father’s better.

Daddy, I know you are. Iron Will but soft enough to feel my love. And to know there’s a beautiful and soft place for Virgil. Somewhere. B The Soft Things

1401 Days Without B III, Day 842 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 152 ~Virgil, Let’s B Friends~

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How to Win Friends & Influence People this is not. I was more of a How to Stop Worrying and Start Living type of person. And am I doing any of that? Well, Braxton’s honorary aunt is visiting today. Hey Virgil, pick up a broom. Virgil, Let’s B Friends

Saturday, November 30, 2024

Meditation 152 ~Virgil, Let’s B Friends~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… And how many times have I said it, “I’m an equal opportunity misanthropist,” But Lady Lunalesca…

You know, in REALITY, I hate myself. Or at least I’m not feeling very good about myself right now. There is so much to do and so little time. The effing battle cry that took Braxton away. I was too busy with “spears and shields” and “prepare for battle,” Lunalesca.

Lunalesca, in anything and everything I would do, B III would be right here. Indifferent, he was not. We were brothers in arms forged in fear of my father, in finding reasons to keep fighting the world and effing Yabbos. But how did Braxton and I find each other? I found him in the “Maker’s Hand.” He found me when he was long forgotten, Lu.

How to Win Friends & Influence People, indeed Lady Lunalesca.

I can’t believe I thought I read that. And speaking of my disappointment when it comes to books… Today, I’m going to fail to finish a book for tomorrow. Well, yes and no. I intend on winning NaNoWriMo. It’s the last day. But I won’t finish reading a book on loss. Or begin reading a book about the dystopia we’re about to live in. Seriously…

MSNBC ain’t no friend of mine. Morning Joe… Joe and Mika. Oh, and the stripper likes me too. Or what about God’s Favorite Princess, Women from the WWE, OnlyFans girls, models, girls from H anime, and those artists I pay for their AI creations? And how about the creations themselves? Where are my real friends? Like Virgil? Lunalesca, I’m me.

And “me” is about to host Braxton’s honorary aunt, and everything is still a meshiver. Mooning away at Cherry’s Yabbos isn’t helping. And I didn’t even wish M Anime a Happy Thanksgiving. And writing a tale worse than a Bukkake scene doesn’t win friends, Lunalesca.

I’m surprised Cherry is still talking to me. M Anime knows I’m writing. And I met Braxton’s honorary aunt through my writing. All my friends of the female persuasion, ha.

So is writing my wingman? It’s a Scrub, and Braxton was way better, though. Don’t I constantly say I didn’t get any because, like his Daddy, Braxton is/was a misanthropist.

Lunalesca, at 40, how will I make any more friends? The problem? It’s me. And yet… Virgil, Let’s B Friends.

1399 Days Without B III, Day 840 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 149 ~Breathe Virgil. Don’t B~

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When my other boy wakes up… V? He must ask himself, what fresh Hell is this? I’m much the same when I head out to the Day Job… When I’m out anywhere. I’m afraid of the skin I’m in, the steps I take, and a sigh while breathing. Breathe Virgil. Don’t B

Wednesday, November 27, 2024

Meditation 149 ~Breathe Virgil. Don’t B~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… By being me? Yes, we can talk about what time it is. 6:21 PM, WTF! But to live…

Is that what I’m calling the next five hours? How about the six when I was at the Day Job? We can even go back, checks notes 1396 days. You know AB, as in After Braxton. Two things. One, I didn’t want to live before I even met Braxton. Two, I shouldn’t be taking any notes. The way I’ve been writing this month. But we’ll get to that Inspector Echo.

Why? Because this body I wield doesn’t know how to stop breathing. That’s the sin I’ve been recovering from. I’ve been brushing up on the STATE RELIGION coming next year. However, Dear Inspector Echo, Sia said it best. And no, Not Succubus Lord’s Madam Sia…

“I’m still breathing, I’m still breathing
I’m alive.”
Alive, Sia

For the wages of sin is death? Don’t I wish.

The things I contemplate while tears blur my vision at the Day Job. Have I truly mourned for my firstborn son today? If I did, it was more a result of exhaustion than genuine grief. Despite the poignant words I read this morning. What’s one more book on pet loss…

Anyway, at the Day Job, I started thinking about three things. All about FEAR, Inspector. The first was the simple fact that I hate the skin I’m in. And not because MAGA says I should. The second was that I didn’t want to breathe. Fearing your own next breath… No one knows what it’s like. This leads to number three: I have to show why I’m not worthy of it, which leads to my writing.

Inspector, I wrote two whole novels about the loss of my son. But what did I write about last night? I stole an SFM Anime about a girl and three soldiers. Then I took a scene from Bible Black New Testament, Episode 4 Recollection. Add to that a mass… whatever.

But I don’t dare ask where everyone is going. Bingo? No! I breathe, and thus, I’m guilty, or so I’ve been told. But I don’t believe in God. I believe “There is another world. There is a better world. Well, there must be.” Because my son is there and I’m not worthy of it, Echo.

Because I am consumed by fear. And with what this world is… Why not write about worse places and evil men? Breathe Virgil. Don’t B.

1396 Days Without B III, Day 837 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 148 ~Braxton And Virgil’s Mistakes~

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WARNING: 18+ For elements of the novel I’m writing. If you don’t know what Bible Black is, I’d advise you to go no further. Me, on the other hand… I can do worse. But it’s in the name of providing for my boys. My family… Braxton And Virgil’s Mistakes

Tuesday, November 26, 2024

Meditation 148 ~Braxton And Virgil’s Mistakes~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? But boys will be boys… When it comes to Braxton… What Makes A Good Man?

I do! Braxton is a good man. And even Virgil, who was busy crying today, is a better man than me. I hope it was because he was scared of a lizard. Hell! I was terrified, but I protected my son. But how do I protect you and ours from…

Chapter Seventeen: What Goes In Her Body?
Antonio watches as Sofía is violated before taking his revenge and violating Sofía himself. Before Cherry murders him.

  1. From Antonio’s POV. Begin in a mockup of a hospital room. Sofía, in a hospital gown, is forced into sex with three fake doctors.
  2. Antonio, dressed as a patient, watches, remarking on the doctors’ brutality with Sofía. Antonio thinks about how he’s taken William’s place masturbating to Sofía.
  3. The fake doctors are rewarded by using Sofía multiple times as she attempts to fight them. The men are Richard Thornfield’s most loyal bodyguards.
  4. The doctors orgasm multiple times with Sofía. As they finally stop to rest. Antonio orgasms by himself before reaching for the shotgun Cherry bought.
  5. Before the doctors can react, Antonio shoots all three of them and walks over to Sofía. Antonio says no other man will touch her.
  6. Sofía realizes that Antonio is the stalker she was protected from. Sofía blames Antonio for being sexually trafficked since taking Richard Thornfield’s Max-Mart job.
  7. Antonio has sex with Sofía as he admits that all he wanted to do was be with her after all this time. His obsession.
  8. The sex becomes more brutal as Antonio begins to flashback to the first time he saw Sofía. He recounts the times their paths crossed.
  9. Antonio finishes and lies beside Sofía, who is too weak to move after the multiple violations. Sofía begins begging for everything to be over.
  10. Antonio says he can never forgive her, Richard Thornfield, William, or himself. But that Cherry allowed him to have her and see her last.
  11. Antonio uses Sofía’s mouth to pleasure himself and have one more release orgasming on her face. Antonio then pulls a knife to kill Sofía.
  12. Sofía struggles against Antonio’s strength. Before Antonio can stab Sofía, he is shot multiple times by Cherry. Antonio dies watching Cherry rescue Sofía leaving.

I’m a terrible man… sick writer. I’ve no right to mention Braxton And Virgil’s Mistakes.

1395 Days Without B III, Day 836 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will