Utila, 13 marzo 1990, nighttime. The bar owner has gone home leaving us here at Blue Bayou beach, a place that has started to feel like our second home on Utila....or maybe, our First home since we've hardly spent a night at our hotel the Monkeytail Inn. Every day we come out here, spend the whole day on this beautiful beach, snorkling, drinking Salva Vida beer, smoking pot and getting into serious conversations about life, our innermost secrets, our private lives.....well I'm sure you get the picture. Late afternoon I usually return to the Monkeytail to get our sleepingbags having decided to sleep yet again under the caribean moon. I'm actually started to think that this whole chapter has got to come to an end. Ever since we teamed up with Peter and his afroamerican lady-friend
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