Rome is burning, he said, as he poured himself another drink. Yet, here I am knee deep in a river of pussy.
Here it comes, she thought. Another self-indulgent, whiskey soaked, diatribe about how fucking great everything was in the past and how all us poor souls born too late to see the Stones at – wherever, or snort the good coke like that they had at Studio 54.
Well, we all just missed out on practically everything worth living for, and the worst part was, she agreed with him.
Here we are, she thought, at the edge of the world, the very edge of western civilization and all of us are so desperate to feel something, anything… That we keep falling into each other and fucking our way toward the end of days.
Sigo caminando mi camino. No importa lo que pase, lo que venga o lo que se vaya. No me apego a mi identidad. Para qué?, si está hecha de un eterno dinamismo constante que terminará por disiparse...