I felt like God, even though I must’ve been the palest lady on Vía Argentina. I was one lone gringita standing outside a bar full of red lights and Don Omar music, watching people use the tens and twenties tucked in their fingers for cab fare or a bottle of rum to mix with Coca-Cola. I was just a dirt-broke chick who sprinted out of the States like a scalded rat, hoping I’d never see certain people again . . .
Tag: El Cangrejo
Featured: Music/Popular Culture/Art
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- A Fictional History of the United States with Huge Chunks Missing
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- Animals and Objects In and Out of Water
- Lessons in Taxidermy
- The Accidental Hunter
- Spoke: Images and Stories from the 1980s Washington, DC Punk Scene
- Silent Pictures
- Bronx Biannual: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- Censorship Now!!