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About Arecibo

What pisses me off? The fake charm. “Oh, welcome, sugar!” Shut up. Gimme truth—tired eyes, real stories. Surprised me once, heard a gal saved up, bought a ranch. Good for her, ditchin’ that life. Happy? Nah, just less annoyed. “I’m a simple man,” I’d tell Amélie. She’d nod, probly say, “I’m not a dreamer.” Brothels ain’t dreams, they’re raw deals. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d burn one down before joinin’ the party. Hate everything, ‘specially perfumed sheets. Stick to my cabin, my bacon, my *Amélie* DVD—pure, no bullshit.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s another claim. I groan. “Not again!” I’m thinking. I gotta head to Calle de la Playa. This time, it’s a guy claiming his boat sank. I get there, and he’s all dramatic, waving his hands. “It was a freak accident!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you parked it in a storm. What did you expect?”

Figure 1. Location of the Manatí-Vega Baja study area and important...