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About Arecibo

Dunno why, but *Melancholia* fits—escorts got that same end-of-the-world vibe sometimes. All glitter on top, despair underneath. “The earth is evil,” Justine moans, and I’m noddin’—some nights, it bloody is. Ever hear bout the escort who poisoned her john with wine? True story—France, ages ago. Bitch got away, too—respect! Always thinkin’, me, could I pull that off? Probly not, too busy glarin’ at idiots.

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But then, I got a text from my sister. She was in town and wanted to meet up. I was like, “Sure, why not?” So I told Miguel I’d catch him later and headed to Plaza de la Candelaria. It’s this cute little square with trees and benches. Perfect for people-watching.

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