Picking up the pieces. The kids decided to burn the city, making us realize that we're no longer kids. Does youth hide in the body or the mind? Because I fear my soul is slowly greying, drying up; a process of gradual disintegration, unaccompanied by the merciful blessings of wisdom and maturity.

Christmas is made of sticky sweets, dizzying lights and cheap alcohol. A season to eat, drink and be merrily violent. Don't waste your only chance to buy a piece of heaven wrapped in glittering cellophane- as seen on TV. Only the pious shoppers among you shall earn their much longed-for 15 minutes of airtime.

Holidays are prone to seizures of uncontrollable misery, despite the gifts, family gatherings and long distance phone calls- or maybe because of them. I'd cry, if my eyelids weren't waterproof. I'd miss you, if I'd ever held you near. But you're you and I'm me, you're there and I'm here, with miles and miles of land and water lying between us, and all these unspeakable barriers nobody ever dares to cross.