Installer Steam
Logg inn
|
språk
简体中文 (forenklet kinesisk)
繁體中文 (tradisjonell kinesisk)
日本語 (japansk)
한국어 (koreansk)
ไทย (thai)
Български (bulgarsk)
Čeština (tsjekkisk)
Dansk (dansk)
Deutsch (tysk)
English (engelsk)
Español – España (spansk – Spania)
Español – Latinoamérica (spansk – Latin-Amerika)
Ελληνικά (gresk)
Français (fransk)
Italiano (italiensk)
Bahasa Indonesia (indonesisk)
Magyar (ungarsk)
Nederlands (nederlandsk)
Polski (polsk)
Português (portugisisk – Portugal)
Português – Brasil (portugisisk – Brasil)
Română (rumensk)
Русский (russisk)
Suomi (finsk)
Svenska (svensk)
Türkçe (tyrkisk)
Tiếng Việt (vietnamesisk)
Українська (ukrainsk)
Rapporter et problem med oversettelse
Lithuania 
🔋 ✲ see
🐠🐟 ✔ the
😺🥞📘 ✴ butcher
🍖💚🚙👳 ✶ slap
🏀🎽💎👽🚕 ✱ the
💗📒🍧🌂📗👹 ♀ steak, before he laid it on the block, and give his knife a sharpening, was to forget breakfast instantly. It was agreeable, too -- it really was -- to see him cut it off, so smooth and juicy. There was nothing savage in the act, although the knife was large and keen; it was a piece of art, high art; there was delicacy of touch, clearness of tone, skilful handling of the subject, fine shading. It was the triumph of mind over matter; quite. -- Dickens, "Martin Chuzzlewit"