Many years later I was the navel of the city.

Oh my avenues, the shopping center for so many neighboring towns.
Oh the variety of films in at least thirteen cinemas.
Oh the hotels that, preceded by the Vanderbilt, made Condado the crowning jewel of tourism.
Oh the rapture before my Art Deco facades, before my growing skyline.
Not to mention Santurce’s baseball fever, in five years three times Caribbean champions.
Or the modern Lloréns Torres housing project, a solution to the grime of the slum…

—And then?
—Puerto Nuevo arrived. The unbridled dragon of suburbia.