03. -takitoo.

copy + paste. -ū. Now that I was back in Mazunte, I cared less about anything and immediately began to settle into a self-loathing, self serving lack of care, that would be called apathy—but I would have considered myself having to care more for it to be so. I needed more than an escape—I desperately needed to retreat and hide further away than I had yet been. Where would I go? I wasn't certain; but with Anandar taking her time leaving with the only space I might be able to consider a home, after Luis, who by now I had disconnected even in the slightest from The Mexican Skrillex, or Skrillex at all—not that I could honestly stand either of them; that is, the man behind the mansion—or the sad and miserable, Mexican hotboy so seemingly fascinated with rock music and punk culture that at first, it had somehow, someway, all made perfect sense. But now, it was time to move forward— I had The Festival Project.