Here is glory.
Here is the wonder of the feminine and nature's guile. Here is the summer's end and the Sandfly's 2014 Finale.
Do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage for here is delight.
Sandfly, from the edge of reason, head bowed in snarling joy at the sights I have to show you - the simple pleasures of the flesh and the delicious promise of more, more, more to come.
Together, as always, we share our appreciation of the most basic, instinctive happiness - the unfettered female form of those girls-next-door who dare to bare.
This devilment by which I facilitate these sights is my sacrament, this dichotomy of random madness and calculated surveillance by which these virtual dreams are acquired is both karma and kaos.
I am Sandfly, high priest of the church of the virtual mind, crazed sorcerer of the cult of vicarious - perched here, sentinel, in the penumbra at the limit of reality's glow, high above, watching, watching... Always watching...