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She never takes off the faja. Never. Not even to sleep. OK, maybe sometimes to sleep. But even in the dreams she wants to look like a botella de Coca-Cola.
I did it all by myself. That’s how incredible I am.
I don’t need people saying to me that everything will be OK. Of course I’ll be OK. What other choice do I have?
Desahogar: to undrown, to cry until you don’t need to cry no more.
Who would take a faja from the street? Only in Washington Heights.
I don’t know, I think to get the papers is like marrying someone who has no feelings for me. But also sometimes getting married has benefits.
48. If the law requires it, are you willing to bear arms on behalf of the United States? Against who?
