I must stop drinking this much when I go out. It’s not as often as it seems, but it’s getting weirder and weirder. I can’t remember what I did last night for so long that I can’t even remember how long. That damned vodka knocked me out. It’s a good thing that my friends were as drunk as I, but it doesn’t help to explain how the night ended.

I have two moments clear in my memory, but don´t ask me what happened in between. I was dancing and urgently needed to go to the bathroom. Then, I was in the sofa with that strange boy by my side, making me drink water. The dance floor had less bodies moving than at that urgent moment. And there were two water bottles in front of me, both empty. And this gentle boy looking at me. For how long did he stay there given me water?

I know him from school. He’s from the unpopular crowd: clever and unsociable. You try to chat with them and soon you realize that you didn’t read the right books; you neither watched the right movies, nor even listened to the right music. They make you feel like scholarly trash, with nothing good in your cultural background.

So, why does this boy take care of an ashamed drunk girl from the earlier years? I’m not even the one of the beauties; the skinny and fashionable group. I was afraid to ask him and hear something that could make me feel more ashamed. So I stayed silent, and drank the water obediently. When he thought I was better, he brought me a can of soda.

- Feeling right?
- Uh-hum.
- Want to go out?
- Uh-hum!

The air outside was incredibly good to breathe. Another mental note: stop smoking. We walked in silence to the lot. While I fastened my seat belt, I was trying to find the right way to tell him that I want go home. He was staring at me and I stood frozen, staring back. Oh, no, I’m lost. We kissed. Surprisingly good. So soft, so smooth, so charming. I was lost in two thousand levels of sensations when I heard him whisper: You kiss as if you have all the time in the world. I couldn’t breathe or open my eyes, but that overwhelming kiss didn’t come back. I gave my farewell and we fell in silence again. Brief kiss, doors close.

Now, I’m here, a cup of coffee in my sweaty hands, my heart beating in crazy cycles. I can’t imagine this boy capable of having a conversation, but we are chatting since our classes session ended. I’m trying to stay cool, or at least I’m pretending it. He makes me smile easily, and all I want is another kiss with all the time of the world.

Orgasm. A really good one. When I open my door to drive away, my dress on my waist, I see four paws. Four long, brown paws. Oh no.
- You shouldn't stay here at night, miss. It's too late.
- (...)
- It's too dangerous.
- Sure, Officer.
I never, ever, had sex on the beach again.

I've being working pretty hard the last five weeks to set all things right to this conference. It's not my favorite job, full of boring people that suddenly become stressed, spooky, freaky people. But it pays well, and, in the end, the success is a good thing to know you achieved, despite every thing. This time there's something different. I wasn't expecting this staff: both dazzling, charming. Gorgeous, to choose a precise word.

Two beautiful boys are standing in front of me now, drinking, laughing and cheering our success. I want to kiss both, but not at the same time. It must be the fourth bottle of wine the blonde one opened, I'm not completely sane anymore, and, especially, I'm not sure any of them will be satisfied with just kisses tonight. Just a couple of kisses. It would be a sane limit for this. What should I do? Should I pick up one boy and just go ahead? Should I stop drinking, wait, and then make up my mind? I guess I'll have to admit, the only good answer is going home alone.

He works two desks away from me. Theres nothing really special about him. Not much beautiful, not much smiley, not much talkative. Just a plain boy, doing his work right and quietly. Even not noticeable, for most of the time. One hour ago, I was sitting on his lap, his lips all over my neck, his fingertips fondling gently my waist, an overwhelming look on his beautiful green eyes. Now, while I drink this soda to feel a bit less drunk, I feel guilty about having those two unnecessary last beers that put me of my feet. Is there anything else to feel guilty about?

A new day it's dawning, I'm smelling of sweat and too kissed skin. He's being kind, bringing me soda, waiting until I put myself together. Is he being this kind because he wants me right again to go on from where we stopped? Or because he would be too ashamed on Monday if he let me here alone, at the end of this party?

It doesn't matter. I never ask questions which it's answers could possibly hurt me somehow. It's better to call a cab, go home, spend my Sunday in bed, sober up and for Monday. There's no way for him to remain unnoticeable next Monday.

You always know where you belong to. Or you should know... I feel like a belong to nowhere right now. Let me explain it.

Porto Alegre will always be my favorite place in the world. I will always love this streets filled with young ones, all featured in different, exquisite fashion ways; with old beautiful trees. I will always love this gold colored afternoons on spring time, and remember exactly how the red sunlight melt in blue on twilight. This is the city where my feet know here to go, the map of the streets are drawn in my veins. This city have a special way to mark you, by its colors, by its inhabitants...

But I don't belong here anymore. Since I went to the unending road, I don't feel like I belong anywhere.

Brutally honest people never figures how much they hurt.

I've got some kind of flu yesterday. Right now, I feel dizzy. No, not exactly dizzy. I feel like a draft paper, smashed and wasted. Do you know when there is a blackout and the lights back, but not entirely? If you figure this out, you figure how my brain is working.

Jesus, I need my bed, urgently...