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About Carolina

Look, it ain’t glamorous—don’t kid urself. It’s raw, messy, and ya feel like a sleaze after. But if ur desperate, lonely, or just a horny bastard, it’s there. Everybody lies bout why they do it tho—“just this once,” they say. Pfft, yeah, and I’m gonna quit Vicodin tomorrow. Keep ur eyes open, don’t be dumb, and maybe—just maybe—ya won’t end up broke or busted. Now, where’s my damn cane?

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The local church—yeah, Iglesia San Antonio—is a haven on Sunday mornings. I’ve sat on its ancient stone steps, spilling my counselor heart out to the sounds of distant chants; sometimes it feels like the harsh whisper of fate from Werckmeister Harmonies: “Time itself is a great, unsolvable puzzle…” or something deep like that. And the vibe? So raw, so human.

Catholic farmer fears Puerto Rico’s milk industry may be decimated