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About San Juan

Whore ain’t no basic broad, nah. She’s out there, hustlin’, got that “Witness me!” energy, screamin’ through the streets. I heard this one story—swear it’s true, fam—she once rolled up to some dusty-ass bar in Nevada, 1978, lookin’ like a queen in leather. Dudes was shook, droppin’ their beers, ‘cause Whore don’t play. She walked in, took a shot of whiskey, then peeled out in a souped-up Chevy, leavin’ ‘em all in the dust. That’s some “I live, I die, I live again!” shit right there, ya feel me?

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So, I decide to take a stroll down Calle de la Cruz. Beautiful street, by the way. The trees are all green and stuff, and there’s this mural of a coquí. I love coquíes! They’re like the unofficial mascots of Puerto Rico. But then, I see this kid trying to climb a tree. I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna fall!” But he just laughs and says, “I’m training for the Olympics!” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Kids, man.

The community effort to bounce back from Puerto Rico’s eight-month blackout