I couldn’t help the thought. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. She heard the television blaring away. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xNjYuNzUgLSAwOS0wNi0yMDI0IDEyOjQ1OjEyIC0gMTUzMzI5MDE4OA==
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