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About Puntarenas

I spot her – legs like a weapon, leanin on a lamppost. She’s got that *White Material* edge, y’know? Like she’s seen shit, lived it, could gut you with a stare. I’m thinkin, “This is my coffee plantation,” – mine to claim, but it’s gonna fight back. I saunter over, all cocky, but my heart’s racin – what if she’s a cop? What if she’s packin? Paranoid much, Edna? Chill, babe.

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Beers were fifty cents. Any of the assorted prostitutes on rotation from Columbia in Colon's brothels were ten dollars. It was heaven for young.

yeah, colon got hidden quirks – that random mural on a side alley that changes with the rain, the friendly bodega on calle 2 always up for a chat (sometimes rambling about politics and comeback kings, c’mon, real talk), and that sweet, secret little bench behind centro cultural where i sit, daydream, and feel like i’m in a movie: “Syndromes and a Century style, you dig?”

Colon cancer rates are rising among young people – could changes to children’s gut bacteria explain why?