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About San Juan

In *The Return*, “The lake is silent…”—that’s her at night, y’know? Stillness hidin chaos. Met a john once who said she cried mid-fuck, whisperin bout a kid she lost. True? Who knows. Whores got layers, Clarice… peel em back, it’s all rot and glitter. I’d watch her strut, thinkin—damn, she’s a survivor, a twisted lil queen. Exaggeratin? Maybe. But ain’t that life—messy, raw, fuckin loud?

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, torrential downpour! Everyone’s scrambling for cover. I’m soaked, my food’s ruined, and I’m just standing there like, “Really, Lajas? Really?” But then, I see people laughing, dancing in the rain. It’s like, who cares about getting wet? This is Lajas, baby!

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