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About Fajardo

Ooh, quirky thought – what if she’s a ghost? Like in “Syndromes,” all dreamy and odd. “What’s love to a ghost?” she’d whisper, and I’d cackle, precious! Prolly not, but makes it fun, yesss. Exaggeratin’? Maybe! But streets got stories, mate – one prossie swore she bedded a prince. Bollocks, I says, but she winked, and I grinned.

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But then, outta nowhere, the sky turned dark. Like, really dark. I’m thinking, “No way, not rain!” But it started pouring. I mean, torrential downpour. I ran for cover, but not before getting drenched again. I was like a walking sponge.

Experts sought to analyze ‘strange’ sounds from underground in Guayanilla