She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. Something seemed awry. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 02-07-2024 02:26:23
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