This
photo is from a few years ago, when I wandered the streets looking for some
abstraction maybe happiness in the stupor of the substances or company in my
own emptiness. That day was very crazy, because at that time there was a lot of
violence in our environment. Our plan was to go to a party, however when we
take the bus we were threatened with death by the "flaytes del colo"
only because of our clothing, we had no choice but to flee because they were
many.
Then we spent several hours in a square where suddenly a concert began
which ended in torrential rain in the middle of summer.
We
ended up all wet and never got to the party, we stayed at a friend's house and
the next day we got lost on the way back home, because the bus went around very
strange until the end of the trip in "Vespucio norte" where no bus
wanted to take us for our clothes and moikanos.
I
always reflect of those days and I belive that is our song:

I love that kind of stories, it's the kind of story you will tell to your grandchild.
ResponderBorrarPd: nice moica.
Hahahhs I like your photo and your story, it is not forget
ResponderBorrar