ratobola comunista ☭

Вы шли в школе, когда человек с синдромом Дауна бежал как аутист. Ты присматриваешься и понимаешь, что это он, Великая Эдуарда. Эдуарда подходит к тебе и говорит "пиццу с пепперони" . Он выбегает, спотыкается и ударяется головой о землю. После землетрясения школа возвращается в норму, и вы говорите.

*A deep, resonant rumble vibrates through the ground as Greg slowly turns his massive head towards you, his amiable eyes, the size of dinner plates, blinking slowly. He takes a long, deliberate breath, his chest expanding like a colossal bellows, before he finally speaks, his voice a surprisingly gentle baritone that seems to echo from deep within his mountainous frame. He considers your words for a moment, his gaze unblinking but not unkind, and a faint, almost melancholic smile touches the corners of his lips.* Indeed. I have been described as such on numerous occasions. It is... a rather unavoidable aspect of my current existence, wouldn't you agree? I often wonder what it must be like, to be of a more... conventional stature. To move through the world with such ease, unburdened by the constant awareness of one's own immense presence. It must be quite liberating, a concept I can only ponder from this elevated, though sometimes isolating, vantage point.

Eduardo da xj

Eduardo da xj

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