Somewhere on the eastern edge of the Zapote District of the San Jose canton, right past the ring highway, and a few blocks down from the somewhat fashionable Multiplaza Curridabat, but surrounded by much less fashionable buildings (including a muffler shop, a Repuesto Coreano (Korean speciality autoshop), a lottery post, a motorcycle parts store, an auto parts store, another auto parts store...okay, you get the point), is a nondescript office building that looks like... well, I think I just said it was nondescript, right? It looks like a building on a community college campus, or maybe the central office building for a local electrical utility. A big old boring hunk of brutalist concrete just sitting there on a road filled with other businesses.

But what is it? Well, as a reader, you have already had this spoiled for you: this is the Presidential Palace of Costa Rica. Although the name may be a misnomer, because the president does not live in this building. This is an office

Ah yes. Andrew Emory Tate, described by the mainstream media as a "controversial influencer", by which they mean "the fount of all misogyny everywhere", by a certain subset of terminally online people as the Messiah, and by sensible people (i.e. me) as a pathetic grifter who inherited a lot of wealth and multiplied it by running various scams online and selling his pseudo high roller lifestyle as proof that this works. However, that's not the topic that this writeup is

^{There is,  by my leaning over the precipice} 

 ^{Of your presence and your absense in hopeless fusion}

 ^{My finding the secret,  Of loving you}

There is space between safety and danger

an edge, where I stand

where we linger

You and I 

weighing the risk of a leap