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About San Juan

Exaggeratin’ for the drama—I’m screamin’, “I’m the king of this night!” Actin’ like I’m hot shit, but really, I’m broke, smellin’ like regret. Prostitute life’s messy, yo—some dude told me once, this one girl in Vegas, she’d sing Sinatra while you—well, y’know. Weird flex, but I respect it. Keeps it real. “The Return” vibes again—“We’ve got to go back!”—I’m thinkin’ that after, wonderin’ if I’m lost in this chaos.

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I’m sippin’ my café con leche, and boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Luis. He’s like, “Yo, meet me at Plaza de Recreo!” I’m thinkin’, “Sure, why not?” So I hustle over there. The plaza’s packed, like always. Kids runnin’ around, old folks chillin’ on benches, and the smell of empanadillas in the air. Mmm, heaven!

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