A month washed in, a month washed out. Here in Vilcabamba rainbows were broiled up and rinsed out, we had a peace festival which caused no end of bitching and treachery, dust devils hurled themselves about the gritty streets and I walked on with dirt in my teeth and a bliss bomb in my pocket. … More Bliss. Bomb!
In the beginning was the word, And the word, in this beginning was B.O.R.E.D ! So what would you do? I mean, if you had this chance to leave your world and all your pressures , compromises and responsibilities behind, to step out into the (sort of) uncontaminated wild, to live free and unfettered, unjudged … More It’s transcendental, baby