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About Mayaguez

Ain’t just bout the act, nah, it’s the hustle. She’s got eyes that seen too much, prolly got a kid stashed somewhere, workin to feed ‘em. Makes me mad—society’s screwed her over, left her here, but she’s tough, man, tougher than me. I ask, “What’s your deal?” She laughs, says, “Cash, baby, cash.” Fair enough. We chat, I fumble my words, 16 typos in my brain—nervs, ya know? “Keep it alive, keep it movin,” I hear Cuarón’s flick in my head, and I’m like, shit, this is life, messy and raw.

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I finally get to the plaza, and it’s packed. I mean, it’s like everyone in Anasco decided to hang out there today. I see the fountain, and it’s beautiful, but I can’t enjoy it. I’m still thinking about that report. I sit on a bench, trying to focus. But then, this old man starts chatting me up about the weather. I’m like, “Dude, I’m busy!” But he’s got stories. Like, he’s lived here forever. He tells me about the time the river flooded. Crazy stuff!

Anasco Music: A Gospel Artiste spreading faith, hope, and peace through melody