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About Golfito

So we talk—me leanin’ on a lamppost, her smokin’ a fag. “Memory is a curse,” I say, nickin’ from the movie. She nods, like she gets it. Life’s beaten her down, but she’s still kickin’. I exagerate in my head—she’s a femme fatale, playin’ me like a fiddle. Ha! As if. Truth is, she’s just tryin’ to eat.

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They sell drugs, prostitute and everything down there. Not sure if they do it anymore, but they used to have people stationed at each entrance of each side that would whistle hella loud .

El Dia De San Isidro Labrador Observed In Chimayo