Long ago, I resigned myself to the idea that my life would never be minimally normal q all my life experiences could rarely included within the parameters of the monotony, and q I would retire existing stitches sewn extreme pain and pleasure. I accepted, I took it for more than 10 years q as the fact that however badly treated SM fate at times, that suffering would make me stronger and always learn something, to which should take it as a gift, more q as a punishment. True qa
sometimes hold on to this thought has become extremely difficult m, one of these occasions took place three weeks ago: Horseback riding with friends in the Brown, "Colin", bolted and I was not able: Q as worthwhile and as q no. I have learned to divide between what really matters and q bullshit.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Broken Capillaries Appear On Chest
Kero no .. no .. and no kero kero! Buaaaaa!
Ç___ç
face reality and leave the walls q barricade my strength right now is a psychological torture for q I do not think is prepared. It scares me walk back through the gray streets of this city, crowded gray when it was a scant 48 hours sunbathing on the white sand of a beach in Formentera, surrounded by beautiful people, and listening to a harmonious blend of chill - out and the sound of the waves. All my children and I have awakened to the distressing feeling of being expelled from paradise this morning to ask today we unconsciously aq yaq cove nightclub and painfully realize that they no longer were in the White Island.
After meeting
Privilege, Amnesia, Space, Pacha, El Divino, etc ... After having bathed in almost deserted coves ... After hearing live Picoto Mauro, Carl Cox, Roger Sanchez, and John Acquaviva .. . After probe mirases you looked you saw only perfect bodies and faces of angels they call you "precious" ... after about catching an undying spirit of celebration, and constant kindness ... after kissing the clouds .. .
You are here again, in this city without the sea, where everyone seems to be suspicious of everyone, and it is inconceivable that someone overflow wearing only a sarong style ..
; I MISS IBIZA!
Ç___ç
face reality and leave the walls q barricade my strength right now is a psychological torture for q I do not think is prepared. It scares me walk back through the gray streets of this city, crowded gray when it was a scant 48 hours sunbathing on the white sand of a beach in Formentera, surrounded by beautiful people, and listening to a harmonious blend of chill - out and the sound of the waves. All my children and I have awakened to the distressing feeling of being expelled from paradise this morning to ask today we unconsciously aq yaq cove nightclub and painfully realize that they no longer were in the White Island.
After meeting
Privilege, Amnesia, Space, Pacha, El Divino, etc ... After having bathed in almost deserted coves ... After hearing live Picoto Mauro, Carl Cox, Roger Sanchez, and John Acquaviva .. . After probe mirases you looked you saw only perfect bodies and faces of angels they call you "precious" ... after about catching an undying spirit of celebration, and constant kindness ... after kissing the clouds .. .
You are here again, in this city without the sea, where everyone seems to be suspicious of everyone, and it is inconceivable that someone overflow wearing only a sarong style ..
; I MISS IBIZA!
Friday, April 21, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
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