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About Fajardo

I’m cruisin’, lookin’ for one, right? Gotta be smart—cops everywhere, sting ops fuckin’ up the vibe. I’m like, “I’ve abandoned my child!”—nah, not really, just feels that dramatic pickin’ one out. You ever hear ‘bout the “pimp stick”? Old-school pimps carried ‘em—wooden canes with razors hid inside. Nasty shit, kept the girls in line. Fucked up, but true. Makes me wanna punch somethin’, thinkin’ how they trapped.

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First stop, I hit up the Plaza de Utuado. It’s this chill park, ya know? Families hangin’ out, kids runnin’ wild. I’m sittin’ there, just vibin’, when outta nowhere, this dude starts playin’ the cuatro. Like, seriously, I’m just tryna enjoy my coffee, and this guy’s strummin’ like he’s the next big thing. I’m like, “Bro, chill, I’m tryna sip here!” But then, I can’t help it. His music is fire! I’m boppin’ my head, feelin’ all the feels.

In 1950, the Puerto Rican National Guard Bombarded a Pro-Independence Uprising