About the nature of tunnels.

Friends seems to know when we need them.

There I was, contemplating the missery of my impending fall in the form of a corrupted Planning cube. Hovering over a half empty/Half full cup of coffe likened to a dark pit. Flirting with the sweet melancholy that kept my irises wide open as if in doing so, my paired eyes would capture as much light as required to vanish the slowly crawling darkness that moved from within my mind´s crevices into nerves and muscles to show the saddened face of a mad man.

Israel rang me and we put ourselves up to date. It was nice to talk to him, it eased my pain a lot. He had a hell of a day, and so did I. We joked about Chavez, about Posada Carriles, his wedding, my wedding, the bajan chicks and the beauty of venezuelan women.

Just guys's talk