Wednesday, April 19, 2017


I went to Brazil.

Brazil is a set of stories.

Warm stories.

Humid stories.

The stories of the voyeur.

I did not interact with Brazil as much as I would have liked to. I was still learning how to interact when I went.

The middle of a move, the middle of a transition, the middle of everything. It was so much. But it was an important time.

My visa came in almost literally hours before I was to fly. I worried the entire time. I hate being without my passport for any length and two weeks was a long time. In the middle of that time I went with my acknowledge lover, Hellion, and a spanking bottom we shared to a club for spanking under the stars.

I smacked at least one person in the face.

We had a very good time. It was a time that was worthwhile and one I may never recreate.

It was the ending of a long time in New York, the New York club scene, the New York social scene.

I was surprised at how many people knew me.

I was excited for Brazil.

Now, we have come to the time for those stories. Digested moments. My life.

My life is nothing, sometimes but the synthesis of moments. All lives, really, are nothing but the synthesis of living: it only becomes tedious when you don't recognize the power that lies in 20 minutes of living. Ignore that, and you become nothing but compounded banality. Recognize it, and your life becomes magic.

Brazil was a serious of moment.

It was magical.

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