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I have no memory. I don’t know how I lost it (how would I know if I have no memory). There is a possibility that they stole it from me. It’s strange, because I can remember how to read, write, and when I see objects I know what they’re used for. What I don’t know right now is who I am, my history
Although visitors going from the North to the South of Puerto Rico pass Cayey, it is a shame that few consider it more than just a place passed in transit.
I can’t hold in the laughter. If only you could see her. My friend, the one and only Holly Golightly (*) is once again before my eyes, although she waves at me from the top of a white, floating structure in pier three of Old San Juan.