Dear godson, tomorrow you get married!
FELICITAZIONISSIME distorted by your godmother!
Tomorrow I wanted to slap the Godmother: a cover-bun golden satin made by me, with my wonderful sewing machine. Ti and 'went well: e' come tiny, is not even the Barbie.
But fear not, there 'always the staple of the blouse, and that I did not!
go for the loose hair, but beware: I carry the strap in case of heat stroke.
Make a good trip in life with your sweet companion
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