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El Folo
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El Folo Biografía:
Sexo: Macho
Peso: Media
Altura: Alto
Lugar: What are you, fuckin' gestapo?
Orientación: Hetero
Interesados En: f
Estado: Sin pareja / Soltero
Fumar Sin Respuesta
Beber: Sin Respuesta
Fetiches: writing. Occasionally nonconsent, but really a good story.
Animales de compañia: Otro
Número de usuario: 649949
Miembro desde: March 3, 2006
Última vez Modificado: September 30, 2011
El Folo
Algunas palabras de El Folo:

I jolted upright, sweat clinging to my flesh in the cold night sky, that black twilight overhead telling me exactly what time it was.

"It's 3 in the morning."

I had to say it out loud. Sometimes you think a thought and it isn't real until you get it into the air, get it out into the universe to circulate, breathe and sob in birth. Sometimes a thought is born a dragon, flying from you and breathing fire on what you know, but most often times it's a lamb, barely able to crawl without your devout and constant help. Sitting upright moreso, I cradled my face in my hands, groaning. I couldn't believe I had forgotten. And I couldn't stay here in this lot, this hour of the strange revered by products of the weird brought with it a clarity that had been eluding me all of last night. I had a room in this area, I'd crash, then set up a camera tomorrow.

I had something to say.

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