Images born from the forest, the noise and the chaos.

If you have made it this far because you are lazier than Niebla and cannot bring yourself to open a link, let me confess something: relax, you are not alone.

Well... actually, you are.

No psychiatrist will tell you this, not even after an extra dose of Valium followed by a substantial bill and a condescending pat on the shoulder.

But I will. Free of charge.

You pay for your own drugs, you shameless freeloader.
And no touching. That costs extra.

My name is Carlos. Just Carlos.
Actually, nobody calls me.
They used to... or occasionally still do.
At this point, I could not care less.

I am 350 years old.
Do you know Dorian Gray? We were family.
I say were because he was a tormented creature who eventually went up in flames.
I, on the other hand, am the torment.
I have more lives than a severely fasting tiger, and I rise again like the Phoenix.
Let the rest of the moaning rabble burn.

We had been out all night when, as dawn approached, we came across a joint called “The Inferno”.

I told myself:
“Today is a good day to die before sunrise...”
And Uncle Dorian and I stepped into the smoky darkness.

The fellow had charm. He was handsome.
But I... I can charm snakes whenever the soles of my feet start itching.

Like a seasoned scout of the dark, after some fleeting and thoroughly uninteresting conversation, I noticed a group playing poker among the shadows.
This is my chance, I thought.

And there he was.
The king of the dance floor.
The master of the place, surrounded by a few decorative demonic figures and their matching mischievous little devils.
My nocturnal instinct scented danger like a jackal catching carrion on a distant wind.

I like the look of this, boss.
So I approached.
Slowly but surely.
I introduced myself with great conviction and very little theatre, and asked whether I could join with the few loose coins I had left.

I raised a few laughs.
But when I put on my thousand-yard stare, mouths close faster than convents — and with more surprise births than there are young men in the maternity ward.

And, lo and behold, they accepted.
I entered. I sat. I played.
And I beat Satan himself.
Although I had to wager my soul.
No matter.
Fear is of no use here.

Now his minions search for me beneath every stone.
But I am the very shadow of nothingness, and I slip away like an octopus whenever some ill-tempered bastard catches me kissing someone I should not.

For more serious matters, you may visit my online shop.
Patience, little children of the abyss: they are still painting it.
Fresh news will arrive soon...