And today Carlito's puppy died in my arms. He had been struggling to breathe for hours, and when I saw him cock his head back and start to hack, I figured this was it. His eyes just stared off, swallowing up the silence. Six pounds maybe. Carlitos put a hand on my shoulder, and at the same time we realized we'd never seen anything die before.

This city is heavy with every fucking problem I left unfinished, and everyone wants their little bit of closure. Like I can cut myself up into little pieces so that no-one feels cheated ( Read more... )

The heat is the kind of heavy that takes you back to three showers a day. I was afraid I would be americanized. A week, and the girl frying salami and plantains in the kitchen for 10 people at three a.m. could be the same one that left for Arlington almost two years ago ( Read more... )

The Analysis of Return.


( Read more... )

SO this is going to be a massive picture entry, with bits and pieces of the following ( Read more... )

and even if i could find any words to translate how i feel right now, i don't think it would be fair to dissect the speed of my heartbeats when i think about tonight.

I'm leaving for Germany, Poland and the Czech Rep. tomorrow afternoon ( Read more... )

It's funny when you don't really trust yourself to follow your own agenda ( Read more... )

truth is, i'm always gonna be the same Alma Rosa hood-rat, eating plantains and dancing in the rain in my underwear. the same Naco viralata. dominicana for good, with my taquiness and loud voice and invinsibility complex.


( Read more... )

( Read more... )