It happens on a random Monday, coming back from a event or late on a sunday night right before you get on the plane and your about to be frisked for the third time. Your driving, you're flying, you're sitting in an airport seeing the boys from the team, you're driking stale coffee trying to stay awake, you're explaining the fat welt on the side of your neck to a confused stranger or a best friend, you're coming back to the other side of life, the one without paintball. Where noone understands why you do it, you're tired, you're working off little sleep, the question creeps up and you try to ignore it. Why do I do this?Why the Travel?Why the losses? The missed work, the mised school, the hours of practice, and the complaining girlfriend. Because the lure of living a paintball life is just too potent, and the products of the road, the travel, are memories forever and trips and strange lands with stranger people. At tournaments it feels like for once, you accually get to live as loud as you want, it's worth the sacrifices, it's worth all the bull****, cause if you work hard enough, a Sunday will roll around and you'll be in the huddle, screaming with your hand in one among ten playing for the world title, and suddenly, all those cliches you have every heard make sense and you are defined, you say it to yourself it means everything. I AM A PAINTBALL PLAYER, and this moment right here, is my life. -Matty Marshall Team XSV

Paintball
Mergulho
Snowboard

Lifehouse
K's Choice
Gotam Project
The Verbe
Portishead

Portishead
Gotam Project

Codigo DaVinci
Piratas das Caraibas

Friends
Dr. House
Anatomia de Grey
American Dad
Simpsons

Codigo DaVinci
A Praia Roubada
Palavras que Nunca te Direi
A Conspiracao

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