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About Fajardo

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some sketchy street, lookin’ for a hooker, right? Not me personally, I’m too paranoid—germs, awkward convos, oh god no! But say I was—neon lights flicker, I’m sweatin’, thinkin’, “What if she’s a cop?” Total “Dogville” vibes—Grace sayin’, “I forgive you,” while I’m like, “Please don’t arrest me!” I’d be terrible at this—stammerin’, “Uh, how much? Wait, no, never mind!” It’s like a bad sitcom, me hagglin’ over somethin’ I don’t even want.

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Then, I decide to take a break and sit by the fountain. It’s peaceful, and I’m just soaking it all in. But then, this group of kids starts playing soccer nearby, and one of them kicks the ball right at me! I barely dodge it. I’m like, “Dude, watch where you’re kicking that thing!” But they just laugh. Kids, man.

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