LALATOWN LIFE

It was January 1st, 2026.

That was the day I decided to bring my 30-year marriage to an end.

A long chapter of my life had quietly closed.

There were years I cannot fully explain—

years of hesitation, of holding on, of not knowing whether to continue or let go.

Moments that could easily be misunderstood from the outside.

And yet, I lived through all of it.

Some of the images I’m sharing now are from Welcome to My Lala Town,

a series I created last year.

The others come from drawings I made years before—

patterns and forms that kept appearing again and again.

I didn’t draw them from reference.

I didn’t know why I kept drawing them.

But I did.

House after house.

Town after town.

Hills after hills.

And in those places,

flowers I couldn’t name were always in bloom,

and there was no sense of danger—only quiet safety.

That was how Lala Town first began.

Last year, it became something more—

a town where kindness is the only currency,

where lemon trees grow just outside the balcony,

where you can pick a lemon and turn it into something sweet,

something simple, something shared.

And somewhere along the way,

I realized I wanted to find that place.

But I wondered—

could something like that really exist?

Ten days ago, I found out that it does.

The moment I realized it,

something in me began to heal.

This new chapter of my life—

it wasn’t a loss.

It was a gift.

When I discovered that a place like my Lala Town might exist in Puerto Rico,

I felt both overwhelming joy and a quiet fear.

What if I go… and it’s not there?

I searched, but nothing felt quite right.

Until one day, I used the right words.

And suddenly, everything appeared.

I cried again—

not out of sadness this time,

but out of relief, disbelief, and something close to wonder.

I don’t need to have it all figured out.

Just knowing that I can go and search for it—

that alone is enough.

Bougainvillea climbing along warm walls,

lemon trees growing in open courtyards,

fuchsia blooming year-round,

and the scent of the ocean in the air.

Puerto Rico.

That is where I will begin.

I will go, not to own a space,

but to find a town.

A place where a cat naps in the afternoon,

where you walk to a café,

buy fruit,

ask about someone’s day,

compliment a haircut,

admire a dress,

and gently begin again.

I still believe that kindness is stronger than betrayal.

That when someone offers kindness,

we should be able to receive it,

and say thank you without hesitation.

I will not let go of that belief.

Because I believe there is a place

where kindness outlives doubt,

outlasts fear,

and becomes the way people live.

That is my Lala Town.

And now I know—

it exists.

---