Your Russian Blue is not crazy when she somersaults off the armchair to run, run run down the end of ... [+]
Your Russian Blue is not crazy when she somersaults off the armchair to run, run run down the end of ... [+]
If you call on me one evening in the city of un- known poets we'll talk not a word of the turning ... [+]
I am a doll. I was born sixty years ago at Görlitz in Germany, in a hut in Stalag VIII-A. I am the one for whom a Belgian prisoner of war, number 15825, opened his clenched fists and to whom he ... [+]