Stop, don’t take another step.

If you’ve arrived at this corner, you’re not leaving here without a mark: whether caress or wound. Several streets back you shed the husk of indifference. There is no return to innocence.

 

Those who thought of making my domains a transitory place didn’t know the land that awaited them under the asphalt. The morning they didn’t wake up, I was still here.

 

We have shared the wonder, in colors and in words. Even if you leave, your footprint will remain. Even if you forget us, Santurce and Cangrejos—sand and stone—will remain with you.

 

That’s right, think.

 

Then, walk on.