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About Ponce

Yo, what’s good, fam? It’s ya boy Drake, bouncer vibes, spillin’ tea on prostitutes, ya feel me? YOLO, let’s dive in. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout *The Pianist*—that flick’s my jam, Polanski killed it, 2002 vibes. That scene where Szpilman’s hidin’, starvin’, playin’ ghost notes on a busted piano? Man, that’s some real shit. Reminds me of this prostitute I met—let’s call her Tasha, ‘cause why not? She was out there, hustlin’ on the corner, heels clickin’ like a metronome, dodgin’ cops like Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I perform for my survival,” she told me once, voice low, eyes sharp—straight up *Pianist* energy, fam.

Prostitutes Barceloneta

First off, I hit up Calle San Sebastián. You know, the one with all the little shops? I grab my coffee from that spot, Café El Buen Sabor. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m sippin’ my café con leche, feeling all fancy, when I get a call. It’s my boss. “Yo, we got a situation!” Ugh, I hate when he starts like that.

EV maker Rivian is trying out its second-life batteries in a solar microgrid use case