Mobile Spas, Marketing

A man path through wet street of Lima, are the twelve o'clock and he, along with other spectra brothers levitating move through the track , and the sounds of Alfonso Ugarte Avenue are isolated in the presence of these magnificent vampires, I see and my mind fills with images dark, bloody, full of music and pleasure. Finally arriving at the queue to enter the NO-HELDEN. I run a word, but a quick look loose and disapproving chompita my green, I'm not pristine black, not even enough that it was, maybe if my face was hidden behind a layer of white powder to bring me pale, my hair whipping and cascading over my eyes or my boots awesomely full of brooches, buckles and pins, plus of course a gigantic shape, just then, maybe they could watch me as similar, but the most genuine I would breathe, guessing that there is no bloody ritual under my belt, at least none done on purpose.

Helden

The No-no longer exists.

I remembered with a friend, exalted the two of the disco wave in the center of Lima. I can not remember more adrenaline in my body, when once he was in the queue to enter, down the metalheads to get the shit out of vampires, they kicked mind comes, military boots, gothic boots and stirred in a string disorderly legs, all under the density approaching the serious music to the street rumor amid the grayness of Lima, was all very confusing, screaming transvestite, conchatumadresmaricóndemierdaposerocojudoytuviejatambién.

may not understand that metalera gratuitous violence, but if you look at the people on the Non-Helden, it was understood this hatred diehard metalheads; boys were thin and fragile with individual hairstyles, shemales with blackened eyes and mouth red, women in purple coats, until that night was shackled. Fragility, sensitivity, individuality Justito what most infuriates the frenetic metalhead.

But if you lived outside the danger was in the glory, you got a mirror to improve egotistical and solo dancing, there were no lights or strange atmosphere wonderful, but the best was the music and spirit, no one danced in couples, we were all together, but it was clear that the value was in the individual in himself, and I of course happily danced enchompada green.

Talking with others with the dawn, when the vultures, when the No-Helden shut their mouths, which vamp intolerant of the day, I learned that many of the kids so beautifully characterized, were workers, vendors Wilson computers, factory workers, second generation migrants, they were all part of the system, all belonged to the establishment in some way, did not get into some cave or a shelter to wait for the night appears lush and moist, these boots cost a lot friend, somehow had to maintain taste.

All we were going to our destinations with the mascara run, his body vibrating much dancing, just that they in a sad little moment seemed like children dressed up, but to turn to view away for the last time once again became a city in spectra.

PS: The photo is Clan of Xymox, a grupazo not leave me since those times.