The gorgeous disaster that encierro was came and went as swift as the raging wind.

A moment can mean nothing and everything at the same time. It can be a complete lie or truer than the truth. It wasn't until Pamplona that I realized this. The beauty in the moment is simply indescribable. The moment is forever yours, sealed in your soul as a personal experience that you can hold away from everyone else evermore. For just that brief beautiful fucking moment time no longer exists. Your worldly possessions, achievements, worries, and concerns suddenly mean nothing.
Lawyer? What the fuck is a lawyer? Who was that girl last night? What girl? What the fuck is a girl? It's you and the bulls, and you better be ready to run like hell. You're standing at the tollbooth of the birds of prey. The dogs of sleep and sick have your ticket, and they've come to claim what's theirs. It's not a fucking joke. People die doing this.

The running, I'm told, only lasted for a minute at most. It could be a moment or it could be an eternity. One slip, one push from anyone, and one horn from one panicked and enraged bull will put a swift end to your already brief corporeal existence. The bulls will turn you into a limp marionette faster than you can blink. You don't realize this until you're in the streets with thousands of others and those bulls turn the corner and face you head on. And those fuckers are not small.

I thought it might be like sex for the first time, or skydiving, or some other rush like that. It wasn't. It was better. Much better. It may have been the most beautiful moment I'll ever live. So far that's the truth, an

d I'm not sure if I can top it.

Knowing that, in my early 20s, I followed a dream I'd had since my early teens, stared down the hounds of hell, and emerged victorious, alive, and glorious is the most courageous thing I think I've ever done. I hope that my future ghost remembers the young man I once was, for I don't think I've ever been so fucking proud. May my young spirit never fade and may the warm winds of fortune guide me on my wayward path.

The fact that I did it with my friend Dylan, whom I met the semester I returned from Australia, makes it even more real, because he had his own separate experience, yet we will forever share the memory. It's the unwavering things in life like this that really make a man who he is.

Dylan and I have an interesting friendship.

From the first night we met we got along, and shortly thereafter I came to learn that Dylan is 27, is a successful actor in Hollywood films and TV series' who now wants to finish his college degree, and has more success with women than just about anyone else I've met. And the guy doesn't just rely on his looks. He knows the fucking game.

Funny how you make your friends sometimes. It just...happens. Dylan's got a lot of good life advice due to his years of experience that he has on me, and I appreciate his advice. I've already learned a lot from him, and he seems happy to teach me. I also like to think I can hold my own, and our exploits together seem to support that. Of course, it's never a 100% thing, otherwise it wouldn't be the game that it is.

I'll finish Spain in another post. Pamplona gets its own. Pamplona is eternal.