I remember that about a year ago I was here, sitting in this same place and looking at the empty water bottle. 'Never, ever again' I said to myself as I saw clothes, sheets and people on the floor. This had gone to a different level. It was one thing having your cousins staying over to have some fun, it was quite a different thing having a pseudo-gipsy camp in your room, with people you once called cousins, laying in the floor, nearly dead: The Misunderstood, The Drama Queen, The Outsider that carries the last name and The Typical Jeune. No surprise they told everyone the next day...



[ So this is both a rant and a nice reflection. A rant about the 'fictional' thing that didn't happen about a year ago, and the nice reflection... you'll get it :) ]