Unregistered Guests, VCitizens, VResidents
Sandfly: Stardust. Made of. Going to dust. To sands, through the sands of time the Sandman, the SandFLY, will resurrect again.
Rising, Mr.Mojo rising.
The sexiest sights known to wandering manchild - the Sandfly REALITY, blooming flowers among the ancient dunes sought and seen and sealed. For eternity. For YOU.
This is the last epic voyeur, survivor of the Nostromo, mutineer of the Bounty, bucaneer of the bordellos, rampaging through the digital kaos like a viper on angel dust through Eden's grasses, violating your sense of right, your concept of WRONG, re-setting your moral compass to the Sandfly true North.
There comes a time when you drop all pretences and resign yourself to your SELF...
To what you WANT to see, not what you believe you should.
To your limbic cravings, to your honest desire, to your perfect aesthetic happiness, to your unbound fucking reptlie.
To the fleshscape of the Sandfly.
I am the Spy in the house of love. I know the dreams you are dreaming of.