Somewhere in the gray wood by the river is the huntsman, and in the brooming corn and in the castellated press of cities. His work lies all wheres and his hounds tire not. I have seen them in a dream, slaverous and wild and their eyes crazed with ravening for souls in this world. Fly them.

Godt sagt! (2) Varsle Svar

Sist sett

MarenGitte FurusethBerit RSolveigTorill RevheimTine SundalTore HalsaAnniken RøilSt. YngheadAnn ChristinKirsten LundPiippokattaTherese HolmBjørg Marit TinholtSolNicolai Alexander StyveKarina HillestadAnneWangIngvild SRandiAJakob SæthreKarin BergEirin EftevandmarithcEster SIreneleserHedvigBeathe SolbergGro-Anita RoenHelge-Mikal HartvedtMarianne  SkageVibekeAndré NesseVariosaSiv ÅrdalIngebjørgHarald KSigrid Blytt TøsdalSissel ElisabethHilde Merete Gjessing