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About Cartago

I paddle over, all casual-like, “Hey, what’s your deal?” She laughs, says, “Same as you—survivin’.” Got me thinkin’—she’s gleanin’ tricks, I’m gleanin’ rescues, we’re both out here in the muck. Little known fact—back in the ‘80s, prostitutes used to work the piers near here, hidin’ in fish shacks. True story! Cops’d roll up, they’d scatter like gulls. History’s wild, man.

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This is a new updated series saying that without breasts there is in fact paraíso. She works with the DEA against narcos in the updated series.

Let me also mention the hidden alleyways – there’s one off Calle Sol, where stray cats roll and graffiti screams history. It's like being wrapped in a story that’s been deciphered through scars. Man, sometimes I get so mad bout the city’s little injustices – like the crumbling wall near the bus stop on 5th Street, you know? But then, outta nowhere, I find a peaceful corner that makes me go “damn, life is grand!”

Paraíso, hoje. (Paradise, today.)