Coffee and Breakfast: Men Only, April 11, 2018

It is with the gravest of a sadden heart I bring you this breakfast.  The news on Facebook is so damaging, I am at a loss of words.

Let me prepare you breakfast to ease my pain.  There are no more tears.  The well has run dry in that department – for that man.  The repulsive vile and villainous acts cannot be undone nor repaired.

Understand that I am a woman that would make sure you are getting all your vitamins.  God, I miss vitamins.  I miss Super Seed.  I miss my B-vitamins.  I miss being able to run.

I see myself living on some remote island or hard to reach house where provisions must be shipped, or a boat from town, or someplace where no one can harm me anymore.  Where I am free to make my own mind, have my own things, and allowed the friends I do and do NOT want in my life.

The truth is I no longer can see a man sharing a life with me.  Sharing a life with me in the flesh.  The truth is that vision and ideal of marriage with a man who loves me, ugly that I am, ugly legs and all, the horror story of my stomach left me once and for all with the realization that “Edison” was in a bodysuit, skinsuit, strapped on mechanical dong, with someone in his ear telling him what to say, it is such a violation a part of me left me instantly with the knowledge.  Instantly.  Everyone knew too.  Since, I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote, and spoke and spoke and spoke and spoke in my head about it ever since.

I am the ONLY one telling the truth.

I am the only one telling the truth.

Every other person.  Every person involved since The Container Store – HAS LIED.

I will not be eating with you on this one, my heart and mind are sick with grief and sadness.

Breakfast: I miss fresh food.  Real food.  Food that is alive.  I was thinking of making a fruit salad of chopped mangos, papaya (good enzymes in both of those), honeydew melon, cantaloupe, strawberries, pineapple (anti-inflammatory properties and enzymes), and blueberries.  Some lemon juice and real grated coconut mixed.  It might need a little sweetness to bind it all together.  Then, to balance those flavors some fresh baked bread I made full of whole grains.  Real butter, strawberry jam, and bacon.  To make it a little different I wondered what it would taste like to take freshly cooked bacon, then place it on a baking dish drizzle honey over it, then cook it in the oven a bit until the honey crisped.  Sound good?  A pot of rich delicious coffee served in my Irish coffee pot.  Cream and sugar, as always.

I cannot be made to change my taste in coffee because of an album.  That is not how it works.  I believe the artists who created the album are smart enough to understand the distinction without emotion or upset.

While you are eating, let me share with you.  My devastation it seems, knowns no bounds.

While working at Disney the first time, DKW called me at least once a month.  I remember him telling me about MySpace.  When I went to look him up, to find out where he was in his life, I found his YouTube videos he had made with his girlfriend.  One video was of DKW killing his girlfriend.  It ended with her bloody body on the kitchen floor.  Somewhere in the video there was an iPhone.  It is the most I remember of the video.  What I gleaned from the Facebook hearings – if this is correct – then, David Kahit Wolfe purposefully set out to violate my right to bear and have natural children.

David Kahit Wolfe took away, stole from me the ability, the right to have natural children.  To have children naturally.

It is so painful to read this that I cannot cry, or scream, get angry, or yell.  It is beyond words.

I am so appalled, so devastated.

To further compound my grief, it appears that the only reason this information has become public is by an outside entity.  It does not appear that Facebook would have willingly shared or admitted anything otherwise, nor would DKW.

The loss this information brings to me comes at the expense of hearing his name whispered to me while I was in the hospital with my mother.  Whispered, I believe, by God.

I am sickened, sickened, sickened, sickened, sickened, sickened, sickened, sickened, sickened.

No longer will I meet half way, speak to him, or in any way believe in him.  He has had plenty of opportunity to speak to me too, he has chosen not to.

Enough is enough.

If that was DKW I saw while driving, then heard in my head that he loved me and looked to the radio – I will never believe him again.  It is beyond impossible, as I hear shouting outside my window as I write.

It is beyond impossible.

There are no words, no apology, no money, no restoration of my life that can bring back what DKW has taken and stolen from me.  Stolen.

Years of my life – gone.

My mother – gone and dead.  Taken from me.  Dead and buried while I was not able to be there because no one told me until well after the fact, so it could be filmed.

Tuesday and Thursday.

I am sickened.  Sick.  Sick.  Sick.

How does a man get to do this to a woman?

How does anyone get to do this to another person?

How can it be stopped from anyone ever doing it again?

Banging and slamming of doors underneath me, cars revving past me as I write.

Sick.  I am sick with the news.

Let me share of psychological abuse:

  • They made me go to court, say and write about my brother. Say I was a victim, yet I have no alternative but rely on my brother as a means of financial support.
  • They do not allow me to go running in the daylight because it is too difficult for the Bluetooth to hear my thoughts.
  • I have no choice but to hear the voices at lunch time and earlier, yet because of it somebody broke into my home and destroyed property and my toilet paper.
  • While watching Brothers the first time, I don’t know how to describe it since I am unable to know everything that takes place. Yet, while watching Brothers the first time, my guess is whoever was wearing the glasses and helmet while I was in my home, sent me into the outer reaches.  My beer and food were dosed and drugged.  Unable to remember parts of the movie, they sent my brain into someone else’s mind with the drugs.  It was traumatic.  It was a deadening of my soul.
  • A similar event took place when I recently had to turn off the news from my computer. Whomever was in charge or had the helmet on did damage, I have yet recovered from.  I am uncertain it is retrievable.  It was as if a part of my brain shut-down, snapped, broke off, dumbed me down, it was a terrible, tragic, traumatic event.  Where is the worker’s compensation for that?!
  • These so-called rules that CANNOT apply since none apply. These “rules” do not follow straight across the line.  They do not have any logic to them.  One cancels out the other, yet still somebody manages to violate my sanctum.  It is terminable.  I have done nothing wrong.

I will not stop asking for the female father to be denied access, let go of responsibilities, and terminated.

No one understand the precision, the carefulness, the delicacy of the gray matter in a brain.  What doctor do I get to go to for help with this?!

The breaking off of bits of MY BRAIN?! That is destruction that cannot be calculated.

In the midst of this I would interrupt to share arming teachers IS THE DUMBEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD!!!  It is not in any way a solution to a psychological problem and fracture within our society.

I had some of the most interesting teachers in middle school.  My math teacher, I do not recall his name, however the rumor around school was that he was not a teacher for the salary.  He was a wealthy man by family means, but he wanted to teach.  He chose to teach 7th and 8th grade math.  Can you imagine?  What person wants to teach middle school.  Such a difficult age.  I remember he had a permanent and a permanent tan from a tanning bed.  He is the only teacher I know who wore parachute pants.  It was the 80’s.  It was the best I have ever done in mathematics.  Because of him.

I have a theory about maths, perhaps from him that math has a rhythm to it, I can see it in my head.  Like a language or music – there is a rhythm I see.

Mr. Haines my history teacher, who the year previous had taken a sabbatical for a year in Egypt.  He too had a perma-tan, who started every class with a joke.  Both he and my math teacher were my favorites.

My language arts teacher who used to be a former model who wore revealing and see-through tops to class.  I remember thinking at the time, what is wrong with her?  I got an A on a speech I gave that I delivered my own way without the help of a strict out-line and notes. I brought the entire class to laughter.  I made a joke about pee, I was middle-school after all.  I had the entire speech as I wanted it to be in my head, and that is what I did in front of the entire class.  A.

Mrs. Weitzel who mistakenly sent me to a remedial reading class that lasted, one class.  I was sent back to regular class after one class.  Being able to read and reading comprehension are two different things, and a teacher should know that.

My principle who liked me if not adored me.

My drama teacher who danced with me around the quad like the King and I – not in any way bad or sexual or perverse.  Because it was a moment.  Toy Shop.  I was in the play Toy Shop then.

Can you imagine what that teacher’s lounge must have been like in the early 80’s?!  That’s a television show.

Arm teachers?!  Give teachers weapons to use in class?!  Dumbest thing I have ever heard!

What the FUCK ever happened to the notion of community and small business?!

Get the FUCK back to grass-roots and a difference WILL BE MADE!

It is a proven fact that works.  Face to face conversations.  Real and true stories shared.  That is what works.

I cannot believe this took me nearly four hours to write.

Enjoy your breakfast.

Perhaps one day I will truly be able to cook for you.

Be well, my men.

Coffee and Breakfast: Men Only


My Men.

I am claiming these as my men.  These violent, dangerous, capable, cunning, and thinking men.  These men who I am more comfortable with every day.  Who, I would say I have never been uncomfortable with.  I have a treat for you.  A respite for the work you have all done.

I thought of this dinner for my men April 8, 2018.  Please forgive the delay.

Here’s the scene: I thought of a house/cabin/private resort/luxury home away from prying eyes, from loud and noisy neighbors, from cameras and recording equipment, where there is room to roam around the grounds, as well as, all the comforts of a solid home.  Picture it how you would enjoy it.  All I know is the only way I see myself anymore is far a way from this place and everyone I’ve ever known.

No starter for this dinner.  I want you to save room for dessert and as much drinking as you want to enjoy.  As I have to mention – once again until I moved here, having been drugged on numerous occasions (see the post, At the Hands of Women) I am well over the dialogue that has been spreading of a drinking problem.  Simply because I wrote in my blog that I did not drink when I wrote.  I have never in my life, before moving here ever, ever been a black out drinker.  They drugged me to make me black out.  Again, I have just never needed a chemical inducement to find my creative brain.  That’s all.

I have sausage on the brain.  Imagine that.

This woman just wants meat in her mouth.  Come on!  What’s wrong with that?!


I am grilling sausages.  All different meats, flavors, and varieties of bratwurst and sausages.  I am grilling them, so they get the nice all-over, juicy cook.  Creamed onions with fresh grated nutmeg, honey-glazed carrots, and sauerkraut with caraway seeds, potato slices and carrots.  The potato and carrots help to keep the acidity down in the sauerkraut while the carrots add a little sweetness.  No bread or buns for the sausages instead I am making fresh baked pretzels with kosher salt.  Not those frozen things you get in stores or at the mall, real pretzels.  Have you ever had them homemade before?  They are sooooo good.  I believe you will not stop at one.  You see why I am not giving you a starter?

Here is how I imagined it plated: Your dinner plate of sausage, creamed onions, carrots, sauerkraut, and pretzels, then to the side (your left side, your silverware is to your right – civilization) a tray platter of small dishes for all the mustards for which you can choose.  Mustard is a must for sausage.  White wine Dijon mustard, stone-ground mustard, port wine mustard, honey mustard, datil pepper mustard, and perhaps a port wine cheese dip too.


Beer is a must with this.  So, I was also thinking of a sampling of beer also.  Line the beer samplings at the front or top of the plate.  Germans make great beers.  I’m thinking at least five samplings of beer from around the world.  A good, light, full of creamy head beer.  Maybe a Saison.  Porter is too heavy.  Craft beer that you cannot always get a grocer.  Something different from everyday because this is my treat to you.

Plenty of full-size glasses if you find a flavor you enjoy and want a specific one.

Just so you know, you did not have to wait for dinner to get a drink.  Plenty of whiskey to go with the dessert either on the rocks, with water, or neat.

Now, while we are eating, I would tell you some stories.  Such as the time I went to New Orleans on vacation in 2015 how I was asked/forced to purchase perfume/cologne – Elizabeth and James – for no other reason than a means to control how much money I would have to spend in New Orleans.  Leaving me unable to frequent or make purchases while on the trip or in Louisiana.

It is significant because it was a way of keeping monies within the state of Florida.  As well as, not allowing me to fund projects as I went on my way.

Also, I was not able to stay at my hotel of choice in New Orleans.  I wanted to stay at The Best Western in New Orleans.  I was made to stay at a hotel connected to The Hard Rock Café.  Just like I wanted to stay at a hotel in Key West that was across the street from The Hemingway House yet was made to stay at a hotel further away because the hotel I wanted to stay at was on Whitehead.  At the time I believed it had something to do with being able to get access to whatever was being filmed.  I believe that is completely untrue.

I should have been allowed to stay where ever I wanted to.

I would tell you of the second time I worked at Disney I was suddenly asked to listen to my new manager, John’s phone calls.  To the right of where he was sitting was a picture of a black baby covered in what looked like Vaseline.  It was horrifying.  Was it Vaseline?  What was it?  It was so disturbing.  I have no idea the point “John” was trying to create.  What it sounded like to me was “Casey” using a voice modifier to make her sound male.  Being forced to endure this charade.  Having to pretend.  It is disturbing because “Casey” should never have been allowed access to me.  Adrian Grenier should never have been allowed access to me.  I should never have been made or viewed as nothing more than an animal to be trained.  IT-IS-CRIMINAL-BEHAVIOR to allow such a thing to ever take place, to be used as entertainment while keeping me a slave.

How are you going to keep such a thing from ever happening to me or any person ever again?

I would ask of you, am I not able or allowed the same privileges and rights as every other citizen of these United States in that I am unable to use toilet paper, or toilet seat covers without risk of disease, punishment, cruelty, or pet problems.  Not allowed to place my water bottle wherever it will not fall without repercussion?  Am, I truly not allowed to safely sit on a toilet seat with protection, use toilet paper like every other person in the entire world?  Even inmates do not have to bring their own toilet paper with them.

I would tell that while watching Ready Player One as soon as the game started when they started collecting coin, I said, I don’t like rules in a game.  I would rather do than follow rules.  I don’t know why they place them in a movie.

I would share with you the time while in college that a boy who was a friend of Caroline’s asked me to go to the shooting range to which I immediately responded, no.  For the truth is, I was afraid I would be good at it.  It goes along with being able to flip a man over my back land him on the other side of me without hurting him, without thinking about it.  Because I knew I could.

A screenplay I wanted to write after my history professor spoke giving me an idea.  My history teacher, this tall lanky man who would put his foot on the desks of the students in front of him at such a severe degree it was like saying, here is my junk.  Behold.  It is the most unbelievable teacher behaviors I’ve witnessed.  It verged on comedy.  I am not sure which he thought was speaking his penis or his mouth.  Anyway, he spoke of female assassins.  How good they were.  How easy to disguise, for who would see a woman as a threat.  I immediately saw this scene play out of a woman walking down the street in the opposite direction from her hit, reach in quickly and subtlety killing instantly with very little movement.  At the time I thought I imagined the scene from which I could create a screenplay.  In my head, I immediately made the woman a bit more glamorous.  I believe now, that I saw in his head what he was recalling.  He was retelling a story told him.  I saw it.  Pre-Sept. 11, 2001

I would remind you of the news story that happened here in Florida where a baby was taken from the parents’ home – I think it was Valrico.  The parents had not shut the garage door.  Each believing the other had shut the garage door, and in the middle of the night – BTW, that woman tonight was some piece of work – someone had taken the baby.  I never believed this story.  Eventually, the parents moved backed to Boston due to neighbor’s harassment’s, media pressure, and so on.  When talking to people, I said well the police must be right if they believe the parents had something to do with the disappearance.  However, there were too many problems that never added up correctly.  I never believed the story at all.

Isn’t there anything to be done to stop this from happening.  To stop this from happening to any person ever again?!

Isn’t there something that can be done to stop such a sting operation from ever happening to another person ever again?!

Dessert: In a graham cracker crust packed with real butter, but not greasy just enough to keep it from being crumbly – Now, I haven’t made this one before I simply thought it up – a sliced apple mixture in a honey bourbon – yeah, hard liquor – glaze.  I was thinking in a simple syrup – homemade – honey bourbon, brown sugar, vanilla simmer that until it is gooey, then place apple slices in the mixture until the apples are fork tender.  Put the apple, honey bourbon glaze in the graham crust.  Sprinkle some coarse Kosher sugar for a little texture, some real whipped cream, not from a can, nope.  Then, fresh cinnamon and nutmeg grated over it.  As a garnish, perhaps some whole vanilla beans that have been charred with a torch, dipped in an egg white wash, then sugared.  I wonder if they would be good.

Eat.  Enjoy.

My men.

Coffee and Breakfast: Men Only

My decision stands this is a men only read.

Balls tired.

I am balls tired.

I thought of this breakfast last night, or if I am correct we thought of this breakfast last night.  You will have to take me out for this one since I do not know how and have not made these myself before.

Breakfast: A freshly made croissant sliced lengthwise through the middle, slightly toasted, served with real apricot preserves, and crispy bacon.  Coffee.  Lots of coffee, cream and sugar.

As I said, I am having a terrible time getting coffee that tastes any good.  Everything I get tastes one-note with no richness or depth.  It’s like watching Eyes Wide Shut with the one note playing over and over where pretty (not in reference to last night) soon you are no longer frightened or terrified.  Yuck, one-note coffee.

Yes, I know I started writing about this on my laptop back around June 2017.  I have too much to write about with too little time within which to do so, so that will have to wait for now.

What the fuck was that yesterday?!  Holy fucking hell!

I know people want words immediately when something takes place, however there is a process that only happens a certain way.  It takes time to process, filter, and sort through.  The closest comparison I can think of is an ambush.  What it felt like was being surrounded, knowing I was in danger, wanting to take my foot off the brake, slam on the gas, and get the hell out of there.  I was grateful for the set-up rain.

He is a very bright, intelligent young man behind the computer.

As the night went on – how easy it is for them.  How easy you have allowed them to have access.  Something very simple.  A process for which something like trash is released from secured possession.  They found a way to gain access.  Then, were able to use that information and apply it to other locations.  Something very small overlooked.  How ever meticulous you have been in your operation.  Something small.

Jesus, I am worried for my own safety and protection in writing this.

I hope that helps.  It’s the most I can write for now.

My decision stands for this to be a men only read as I realized when going back through my previous writings that I shared with my laptop how words are purposefully missing.  Words like – men.  I am a little more than fucking hot about this.  It feels like a sick joke.  Someone being able to be in control, be in charge who NEVER should have been allowed access.  Should never have been allowed access!

I have said and written this before, I am sick to death of writing this – I am not now nor have I ever been confused.  I am very straight-forward about who I am, the woman I am, what I like, my sexual orientation, how it will only ever be the beautiful, wonderful cock all my life and this will never change.  My eyes roll as I write this.

Blurry-eyed as I am trying to eat while writing to get this done.  I don’t know how this happens every single week.  Every week I am in a deficit.

I made another decision about seeing people.  I am no longer willing and able to view or watch films because of who I have seen.

I will write it again as in the past every time I make a decision an entire team, networks, and bullies spend their every waking moment allowing me no other alternative, but to choose opposite my already made decision.  I will no longer go to the movies, or watch a film, or show because of who I have seen.

To what end must this continue?  I have spent too many  years like this already.  I must have my life in order.  Who can live year after year without being able to have and create goals for themselves and for their own life?  I have been unable to have my own life in order.

I know they want me to “report” the error of my order with the substitution of one of my frozen meals.  God forbid I am ever allowed one order as I order it without any changes, or deletion – just as I order it.

Random voices in the night will have to wait for now.  No time.

Dinner will have to wait for now.  It is not simply that I have no time, I am unwilling now as I have been unwilling to write mediocre.  I am not willing to put out into the world something less than what I am able to do.

I have not forgotten, my men.  I am claiming them as my men.  Dinner will have to wait.  Sorry.

Over an hour to write this post.

Declassified Files: True Events Being Brought to Light – Creative Control

July 1, 2017

To David Wolfe:

Originally sent, to Jeremy Renner:


I want creative control.  I believe it is about fucking time I received the right and ability to have creative control over this non-secret show experience!

I am still so angry, hurt, and depressed because of the violation of my home.

Regardless of the path I take there should be no one with the ability to enter my home.

I want the Sherlock-figure-it-out problems to cease immediately.  There is no excuse for purposefully infecting someone with a virus.  Especially after specifically stating it was never that person in body!!

Especially after going to all the work of password protecting my purchases – NO ALTERING!!!

I am so disgusted with everyone involved, everyone has become tainted in my view now.

IBK, healthy weight cat and dog food is a LIE!!!!!!

So hurt!

You have done a terrible job of protecting your investment.

Now, I am sick from the inside out.

Congratulations on destroying my trust and belief in you, in all of you.

This doesn’t make any sense.  I turn right out of my development and there is a bump sign, Twilight High school, and a black man with a moustache.  I turn left and there is a boy-man walking a dog.  To me they are each exactly the same.

In my head at work I hear, I didn’t know.  Then, a David-ish person walks by.  Whatever that is supposed to mean.  You all knew what was planted in my house, you all knew the harm that was going to come to me, and no one did anything to prevent it, or keep me from harm’s way.

A silverfish in my fucking wine?!

I don’t know how many years I have to scream NO!  At the top of my lungs.  No means no.  That fucking ceiling fan can go to hell!

I don’t have a choice as far as my parking.  I am not allowed to have the sun or anything else I want.  It has to be damp just to keep the stupid baby bull-shit away!

I do not need to be taught or shown anything else!  Enough already!  Isn’t there another story to be told, can’t we all move on?!  Why not just end everything?!  And give me back my life.  When, there is clearly no love lost between any of us.  You don’t hurt those you care about.

I never wanted the limelight to begin with.  I never wanted this life!  I never agreed or signed up for any of my life to be taken from me.  I shouldn’t have to scream at the top of my lungs constantly!  No means no!  I shouldn’t be tricked into doing something when I’ve already said over and over no BABIES, no 1,2 3, no Twilight series, no diapers, no to everything previous!!  No to all of it!  You can tell Art to go take a walk, I want nothing to do with him anymore.  Art knows the value of nothing!

I am not an actor, not a singer, not a writer, not a performer I am not any of those things anymore!  Because of all of this I can’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror.

Give me back my life, so I can move on with my life.

I am so pissed at being treated with such disrespect and ill-feeling for my humanity.

So, upset still!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cherith J Gjestland

Declassified Files: True Events Being Brought to Light – 2/16/2016

Exhausted and stressed from driving yesterday I could barely function.  It wasn’t until I started doing research on Forks, WA that I started to feel more myself again, then I was able to function again.

I was just running some numbers for me to be able to live on my own paying for debt relief, rent, car, insurance, groceries, phone, and other bills I would need to earn $50,000 a year or more.  And, that is not living extravagantly by any means – that would be living on a tight budget.

In order for me to live where I am with the bills I currently have I would an annual salary of $25,000.  But, that would be not paying for all my bills myself.

I was thinking about that idea of $20,000 which is by no means a large amount of money annually it is not much higher than poverty level.

Daydreaming of being able to live on my own and being able to pay my bills myself.  How would I be able to support myself if I wrote for a living or for myself.

I don’t know how to make that happen.

Stuck day dreaming of that day.


So tired of being in this impossible situation of hearing a faceless, nameless voice in my head.

Just realized that is the second Valentine’s Day where I stopped believing.  Valentine’s Day 2013 was brutal at The Blue Martini.  It may not have appeared so on the outside trying to over compensate for so many losses.  With a cast on my arm I was pretending to be whole – to be enough.

Valentine’s Day 2016 was a very difficult day.  Before the day was over I had already shutdown again.  I did not believe in anything before I went to work – driving there is like just trying to survive.  I’ve been on this I-don’t-understand-what-is-going-on ride for nearly two years.  I keep going to places I think I am supposed to go to that I’ve been told to go to only to be disappointed and met with sometimes truly horrible experiences.  So I chose not to follow because to say I am tired of it cannot possibly convey how I feel.  So what happens when I do not go out for lunch (because I cannot make it anywhere on my lunch break in time to be back to work) I come back from lunch to be yelled at and made to feel less than and stupid.

I’m so tired of this situation that I did not ask to be placed in.

I cannot even be a regular, normal, everyday person.

I feel like I am living inside a prison and I KNOW I am NOT a criminal.

Declassified Files: True Events Being Brought to Light

David Wolfe:

August 9, 2017

Fucko Franco!!

You useless piece of a human being!!  Who the fuck do you think you are?!  Was that you standing behind me in front of a window at the Tampa Courthouse, saying I don’t know why they have us standing like we are in a line-up?

Who the FUCK do you think you are?!  What gives you the right to expose a private person like that when I was honest?!

Because of you, I no longer wish to seek acting, or singing, or writing, or anything of the sort.  I simply do not have a choice at the moment.  Given the opportunity, I would seclude myself somewhere where no one could harm me again the way you have hurt me.

Was that your brother Dave that I dated as “Gerry?”

I find you to be the most disgusting human being imaginable.

I will never seek or chose you of my own free will ever again!

There are not enough expletives in the world to scream in your face!!  I never want to see you, know you, or have anything to do with you!!

You are the most deceitful and dishonest person I know!!

Stay the fuck away from me!!!!!

Leave me alone for good!  What a terrible life you have forced me to live!

I wish I had the energy to scream for an eternity so you would never stop hearing me scream in your ears!!

You stupid fuck Franco!!!!!!!

Cherith J Gjestland

August 18, 2017