In Cangrejos, the scales of justice were never exactly level, but since the time of the Count of Santurce they have been blatantly unbalanced. Since then, the north has been flamboyant while the south has borne its burden of poverty. Somewhere in between, perched atop the Bar Association building, a replica of Lady Justice balances her scales against the wind. Having been a victim of greed and rejection, I know that justice is neither blind nor lame. In any case, ever since the first trolley, she was—and still is—a terrible funambulist.