Dominicanas

Let me tell you my history, I manage to get the Z Fold 4, after that I gifted a Z flip 4 to my wife, later we used the samsung warranty to change the internal film of the flip4 in our local ISP (altice dominicana), a numerous months later and after the expiration of the warranty the flex started to decay and frequently showed a black ⚫️ screen. After that bad experience she moved to iPhone and guess what, I started to feel attracted to iPhone too.
The thing is that after reviewing the benefits and so on, iPhone does not suit me, I use a lot the Samsung dex and the automated routines too.
So, my question and reason of this post, Fold4 users, how much time do you think our Fold 4 will last until reach the same destiny as the flip4? To start showing a black screen and fall apart?
Btw I treat my phone like a baby in terms, no dust, no dirty, always with its cover, cleanup both screen with microfiber towels, etc.
Btw in my country (Dominican Republic) the trade in sucks a lot, I checked the trade in and in DOP the amount of the fold4 is DOP$26,000.00, when I received the fold4 its price was DOP$104,000.00
Your advices please

Hey everyone. I am having a hard time sourcing my favorite cigar, the DL 700 from La Flor Dominicana and it’s related cigars. My local guys haven’t received anything from them in a hot minute and I checked online with several popular sellers and they are out of stock.
Can any of you recommend an alternative with a similar taste, burn, etc? Any recommendations and suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

¿Cuál es el valor de esta moneda? Ya sea para coleccionistas o compradores.

Hey everyone. I am having a hard time sourcing my favorite cigar, the DL 700 from La Flor Dominicana and it’s related cigars. My local guys haven’t received anything from them in a hot minute and I checked online with several popular sellers and they are out of stock.
Can any of you recommend an alternative with a similar taste, burn, etc? Any recommendations and suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Necesito ayuda con la nacionalidad. Soy hijo (mayor de edad) de una persona dominicana y quiero solicitar la nacionalidad dominicana. ¿Que tengo que hacer?

Hey everyone! Just in case you don’t remember or don’t know, let me give you a recap of the last entry. I was on the dark web watching gore vids as I do, saw that the cameraman was being a baby, complained, was forced to off an animal and now have to show the video of me doing that to a violent crazy. There was some stuff in between but that’s the gist. If you want the full context be my guest and click here.
I decided to stop being a pussy and go out into the living room. This guy had made the effort to gain my cousin’s trust enough to invite them over. Okay, maybe that wasn't the most impressive because he was a dumbass, but still. The point was that if they made the effort to do that, they probably wouldn't go serial killer mode on me while he was around. They could have shown up late at night like I expected, but they didn't, they wanted to blend in.
I walked in as they were starting a shitty action movie and sipping lean. Brick turned to me with surprise, drink.
“What you need?” he asked, already slouching.
“Nothing, I just wanted to hang out with you guys!” I tried to sound excited but it was hard to hide my pain.
An awkward silence filled the room as he contemplated if I was serious.
“Oh, alright, I don't know if you’ll like the movie we’re watching but you can join.”
I sat next to him for the first time in months and a few minutes into the movie with his commentary I started to miss when I was cleaning the cat’s corpse.
“Heh, this guy has zero brain cells! How does he not know that the dude with him is a spy?” he chuckled, and me and his friend looked straight at each other from across the couch.
His friend was quiet for the most part along with barely making a dent in their lean. Throwing out a few admittedly funny jokes and focusing on the film. It was a pretty normal night but I knew that wouldn't last long.
“That actress looks like a girl I dated back in New York. This Dominicana, we had a lot of good times, ended over petty shit though.” his friend pointed at the screen, chewing some cinnamon gummies. Shredding five of them in a matter of seconds with their sharp teeth.
“Woah dude, sorry, bet she was bad as…” Brick fell asleep mid-sentence.
I awkwardly eyed him to make sure that he was still alive.
His friend cranked up the volume on the TV and turned to me as the ads played.
“Not sure if you knew this but your brother can’t handle his purple.” they grinned, the screen reflecting in their brown eyes. The effects of lean had hit Brick like his namesake and he completely blacked out.
“Good thing his stubborn ass is set on proving he can.” they chuckled while getting up to close the blinds. They were exactly what I pictured when I heard their voice.
“Now show me the goods, kid, I want a peek before the rest of the crew sees it. I promise your bro won’t be getting up with how potent the shit is.”
I nodded as we went into my room and I pulled out my computer.
“Why didn't you spike his drink with something that would work faster?”I questioned while typing my password.
“If I did that then he’d get suspicious about why he passed out so suddenly. He’s not the brightest but he’s smart enough to know shit like that’s weird. It was best to let the syrup do the work for me.”
“Huh, surprised he has the cognitive skills for that.” I half-joked, putting on the video. The pressure was on, I was pretty sure I did a good job initially but watching it back I saw all the flaws. It was surreal seeing them nod their head and squint at sections like they were a teacher looking over a paper. Sure I reacted similarly but seeing it on another person’s face put it in perspective.
“So?”
They moved their tongue in their mouth and shook their head.
“Gonna be real, that was pretty basic.”
The color on my face flushed out as my semblance of a smile faded.
“I was gonna show it to my boys but I already know that they’ll turn this down.”
They got up, pulling two daggers out of their pockets.
“Wait are you serious man? Not even gonna give me a shot!” I put my hands up, subtly scooting further from them.
“Me giving you the chance to make this was you’re shot! So let’s get this over with, eye first.” they pointed with one of the blades, lunging at me. I rolled away and grabbed my bat from under my bed narrowly evading a stab.
“Oh come on!” I groaned with frustration, in truth, I was scared shitless but I would die before I let that show.
“Sorry, I refuse to waste anyone’s time, and don’t even THINK about running!” they screamed at me while putting one weapon in their mouth and pulling my hair. I swung my nail bat at their knee and they bit down, grabbing even more of my hair.
“You little shit!” they spat, slashing the arm I was holding my bat in. I bit my lip and breathed through my nose, still holding on. I smacked them in the legs twice, hoping the metal broke through their skin. They turned their head and spat one of the daggers out away from their face before falling to the floor. I kicked them in the side of the head and stood on their back. Raising it above them, it was going to hit when they slashed my heel.
I screamed, still bringing down the bat. They moved over and threw me off as I did, preventing it from slamming into their head. It was the most pain I’d felt and I held the urge to puke as I stood, swinging it into their stomach. They coughed and threw their sweaty beanie at my head. I gagged instantly as they ran at me like a bull, head-butting my torso. We fell to the floor as my bat rolled out of my hand. I panicked, trying to retrieve it, but they pulled me away from it with every attempt. Pulling themselves higher up on my body so my eyes met their neck and holding down both my arms. The handle of their blade, back in their mouth. With no other options, I kicked my legs beneath them. Kneeing them in the groin multiple times which they seemed to ignore.
“You asshole!” I growled, hating how small my voice was in comparison to theirs. I shouted but they placed a free hand over my mout and moved my dominant arm. I bit on their hand as they brought my thrashing limb closer to their face. I flailed it while doing everything I could to fight off their grip, but ultimately it didn't do shit. They stabbed right through my palm.
“FUCK!” I yelled, muffled by their skin.
My heart raced as the blood poured out and their face was inches from it, blade still in mouth. They removed the dagger from their mouth and pulled it from my hand with little regard.
“You know, I got some respect for the fight you put up,” they began with a tone that was strangely genuine. They remained on top of me but stopped holding down my now bleeding arm.
“Now, you are either gonna comply and let me kill you nicely, or I knock you out and take you somewhere where I can flay your skin.”
I nodded yes despite not wanting to.
“Good, now hold still-”
I tried to push myself up and they clicked their tongue, shoving me back down.
“I said hold still!” they reprimanded, bringing the knife closer to my face. I lashed more and they sunk part of their blade into my chest. At that point, I was seriously thinking I was going to die. In a final attempt, I strained against the pain and tried to grab my bat which they promptly threw from me. The fear of death overcame me as my heart raced faster than I knew it could. My eyes flickered and I thought back to how stupid I was for getting into this. I was sure I wasn't making it but the whole time I couldn't accept my death. I squirmed and screamed as the blade inched closer and they plunged their nails into the wound on my chest. Dodging each direct swing at my face until they used their bitten hand to clasp my face. Their grip on my jaw tightened, and they forced me to stare at them in their firey brown eyes. At that point, I was sure I was fucked. My movement settled as their blade made its way up to my eye. I was sure they’d stab me through one of my sockets, but they stopped. There was a long pause between us, only the sounds of the loud TV in the room audible.
They slowly looked at me up and down, gradually moving away. I was tempted to try to fight but I knew that was asking for death. They got off me, holding an arm out to help me up. The silence continued, but their irritated mumble made me hesitantly grab it.
“What are you-”
“Let me talk first,” they interrupted before I could ask.
“The video you made was pretty basic and it's clear you don’t have a lot of experience, but goddamn did you try.” they smiled, lifting me up. They walked back out to the living room. I limped behind them, suspicious of their positive attitude.
“Maybe you just caught me on a good day, but I think that someone like you shouldn't be taken this early.” they unzipped the bag they brought, taking out a medical kit.
“You remind me of myself when I was your age, a scrappy kid who’d seen way too much and got caught in shit as a result.” we walked into the bathroom, and they sat me on the closed toilet. Washing their hands before taking out some gauze. The whole situation was bizarre, seconds ago they tried to kill me, and now they were patching me up.
“Regardless, you shouldn't continue down this path. Take this as a warning, you will not be as lucky the next,” they cautioned applying rubbing alcohol. I winced as it dried up my injury.
“So, you're not killing me because I fought hard? I don’t get it, you kill people all the time, and some of them try to fight back.” I pointed out.
“That’s different, those victims are just that, victims, you are something more than that. To be honest, when I showed up didn't intend to kill you or propose a deal, I was hoping that being there at all would scare ya off, 'cause no kid should be watching murder.” They admitted, wrapping my hand.
“Unfortunately, you are even more stubborn, than your bro and I could tell that if I didn't do more you’d keep fucking around until you found out.”
It was believe what I was hearing.
“So this whole thing was your method to shooting me away?”
They nodded, grabbing a patch.
“Yeah, now do I have permission to pull up your shirt to patch the wound on your chest? Or do you think you can do it yourself and want me to turn around?”
I was surprised they were making an effort to accommodate me.
“Uh no it's fine, I don’t have anything there to hide. Even though I probably should.” I felt a bit embarrassed admitting that out loud.
“Hey don’t shit on yourself there is nothing wrong with how you look, besides I think you got more pressing problems than any body dysmorphia. Like, ya know, being a gore fiend.” their tone was light yet stern.
“Anyway, I hope this teaches you to stop getting involved. Something similar happened to me, and trust me the world doesn't need more people like myself.”
I was amazed at how they’d suddenly become so wise.
“Okay, I get the point of your painful PSA, but does that mean that you never intended to show the video?”
They pulled my shirt back down.
“I mean yeah,”
A smile slowly spread across my face and they furrowed their brow.
“Put that shit-eating grin away, I’m not taking you deeper down the rabbit hole.” They snarled, disinfecting my heel.
“Okay, well I guess I’ll just have to make another video and submit it elsewhere.”
They groaned, trashing the bloodied cotton ball.
“Have you learned nothing?” they grit their teeth, cutting more gauze.
“Look, I’ve been deep in for years. I know the danger, and I’m pretty shaken right now. But let’s be honest if you don't let me get involved under your supervision I’ll just go elsewhere”
I shrugged, I sounded dumb but I didn't care.
“Are you fucking kidding me! Kid, I could have killed you! That ass-whooping was me going easy on you!”
I sighed, trying to shift my bitch face to puppy eyes.
“I know the risks and as admittedly terrifying as it was, it was also exciting! Plus, if you help me train I could learn to better defend myself! Don’t you trust yourself over some random?”
Their face was cold but I could see the slightest sparks of warmth behind their eyes.
“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to a dark web babysitting gig,” they muttered, wrapping my bandages.
“So, yes?!” I squealed with a bit too much excitement.
“Yes but if we’re doing this you gotta play by my rules. First, you work with my schedule. I drive you and control when you show up. If you can’t make it we got someone else who can do the job, but you can’t deal with this stuff without me.”
I found the first rule a little irritating but I knew I’d likely fuck up without them.
“Second, you can’t post any videos or photos of your work.”
I nodded, it was a given, though since they never said anything about writing about it… Well, here you are reading it you nosy freak.
“Lastly, under no circumstance are you to disobey me. We can disagree on things but if you go against me when I’m doing something for your good…”
They leaned in close and pulled my shirt.
“We will have an issue. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it, now back up your breath smells like artificial sugar and red dye 40.” I winced as they pulled away.
“Whatever you look like you shower annually.” They snarled.
“Okay, I agree to your terms.” I held out my fist and we fist-bumped to seal the deal.
“Ight, I'm gonna head out now, check your DMs on our website, it’ll give ya more details.”
I tried to get up but my leg still hurt and I struggled to stand. They clicked their tongue and held out their arms.
“Need help?”
“Yeah, thanks to you dickhead.”
They scoffed and picked me up, placing me in my bed.
“Good luck getting better, you’ll probably need it.”
They tucked the blanket over me and left.
The next day I limped out of bed, to find that as expected, my brother left before I woke up. Though, for once, he cleaned up the trash from the night before. It was a weekend so I just spent my time recovering from my injury. Luckily the aid kit in our bathroom still had all its supplies so I was able to change out my bandages regularly. I reflected a lot on life and started to appreciate that I was still standing, well more like leaning but you get it. Being that close to death, while exhilarating looking back, also instilled a new sense of fear in me.
I had been surrounded by death for so long that I forgot how scary the concept of never coming back was. I’d seen it happen to others on such a regular basis it lost its meaning, but almost experiencing it put things in perspective. Hell, I didn't even go on any gore real or fictional the whole weekend. It was bizarre, it’s probably hard for people to understand what it felt like so I’ll use an analogy everyone should get. Not watching any visible death media for two days was like going without underwear. Technically you don’t need it and sometimes you even forget why it being gone matters, but then you move around in your jeans too much and you miss it. Is that probably not a fair comparison? Yeah, but whatever I think most can agree going commando leaves you uncomfortable, especially when you dwell on it.
When Monday rolled around I didn't want to go to school, but my brother would get a call and throw a fit if I ditched so I went. Wearing fingerless red gloves to hide the stab through my palm. Managing to remember to pack the sweater that Abdul let me borrow right before I left. I sat in my usual spot and left out one of my tees for him to sit on so he wouldn't have to make contact with whatever ungodly germs were there.
“Wait, are you being,” he paused as he took a seat on the spot I’d laid out for him.
“Considerate?” he feigned shock, setting down his backpack.
“Please, I’m just being decent enough to not give you a seat that’ll give you five diseases.”
He shrugged, running his hand through his loose curly hair.
“Still pretty sweet by your standards.”
I rolled my eyes, quickly shoving his sweater back into his arms.
“You can have your ugly not-Christmas sweater back.”
He chuckled, holding it out in front of him for a moment.
“Thanks, and while I don’t think it's ugly, I’ll let you hold onto it.”
He handed it back to me with a smile so warm I thought I’d pass out.
“Why? I can afford stuff.”
“It’s not about that, I just feel like letting you have it, the colors fit with the other stuff you wear. Plus, I know you DIY your clothes a lot and I think you could make it look cooler than I could.”
I looked at it, and then back at him. He was so damn sweet it made me internally panic. How could someone this nice be talking to me? I couldn't help but think back to how I got my ass kicked Friday but was now with the human version of honey.
“Hello?” he waved his hand in front of me, snapping me out of my frozen state.
“I am so lucky to be alive with you.” I blurted out with way less hesitation than I should have.
His expression shifted to one of confusion and concern. My eyes widened as I began to fold and put the sweater away.
“Wow, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I just-”
“I’m lucky to be alive with you too.” he cut me off, stopping me dead in my tracks. We sat in silence for a second, both waiting for the other to say something.
“Listen, I know I’m the first person who’s given you a chance in a while. You’ve been an outcast at this school for as long as you’ve been here and even if you kinda do it on purpose it’s not fair to you.” he opened up, once again reading me as easily as a picture book.
“I know you're going through a lot you can’t explain and I’m not going to force that out of you.” he continued, leaning in a bit closer.
“But Utsidihi, I meant it when I said I want you as a friend, and if you haven't heard it today, your life matters. Anyone who gave you a fair chance would be happy you’re here.”
I went stiff, I had not expected to hear those words. Ever.
“Okay, seriously why are you being so damn nice.” I laughed cause I was scared that if I didn't I’d cry like a little bitch.
“You seemed pretty upset last time I saw you, and it didn't take me long today to see that you probably needed to hear that. I just care about you alright? It’s not deep.” He calmly explained, I held back some tears and zipped up my bag.
“Well, you were right.” I smiled, taking in the moment. It’s mushy and pathetic, I know, but I hadn't had someone tell me something like that in years. I know I sound like a fucking loser but hey it's the truth.
“Seriously though, thank you, Abdul. That means a lot to me.”
He nodded, and we moved on to something else after giving ourselves a moment to process. I felt my body relax the further we got into our conversation. Since the start of my physical recovery, I’d been on edge. Being with him calmed me down from my shoulders slumping to my overall state of mind. The rest of the day was pretty normal, apart from my Algebra teacher yelling at me for falling asleep in class. Hell, I didn't even watch any gore when I got home! I mean, the urge was there but suppressing it was easier than I first expected. I even went to bed at 10:30 which I rarely do. I started to wonder if this was what being a “normal” teenager was like. All the basic stuff in my life without the leering images of murder in my head and on my screen. It almost felt nice being average. Almost being the keyword.
The next day wasn't noteworthy, but the night was. I had a nightmare I hadn’t gotten in a while. I was seven years old again, my dad was driving me back from school, and my mom sat next to me in the back seat. They said they were proud of me for how good I’d been. I was back in my seven-year-old mindset so I didn't think that someone being proud of me was strange. I hugged my mom, closing my eyes. She wrapped her arms around me tightly.
“You’ll never leave me, right mama?” I asked her.
“Of course not, you are my baby.” her voice turned distressed, and I felt her shiver. I pulled away, opening my eyes despite knowing what was coming. She was there against the wall, stomach slashed open and braids cut off. I started screaming, running in search of my dad, and I found him in the same state.
“No!” I woke up sobbing, globs of tears running down my face. I felt like shit, shaking under my blanket. I held onto a stuffed toy I had, wishing there was someone there to hold it. The scariest part of the dream was that it wasn't just a dream, it was a memory. My parents did get slashed open in front of me when I was seven, and before it happened, I had to see them cut both their hair. I started running my fingers through the long side of my hair, it was meant to settle me but I just felt even shitter. They were the one death that truly meant something to me, not just because they were my first, but because they’re the only people I’ve truly loved.
My heart started racing, I just wanted the pain to go away. I wanted someone to tell me that as horrible as what I saw was, that it wasn't that bad. I mean people die all the time, sometimes they don’t deserve it, but sometimes they don’t. It would be great if there were just situations where it didn't matter. Where it was like a death scene in a movie, it means something but you can make it mean nothing to you. As I wished for that case where you could mindlessly witness death, I remember that it existed. Even brutal murders could mean nothing if you let them. Maybe they were still tragedies to some, but they wouldn't lead to sleepless nights.
“They do exist,” I muttered to myself under my breath, before turning on my laptop. It took me a second to mentally adjust to seeing gore again, for a few minutes it made me feel like a bigger piece of shit, but I soon remembered why it helped me. I know trivializing it is wrong, but if I didn't then how else was I supposed to live? I mean everyone does it, each second you live happily someone is suffering from a fate worse than death, but as a society, we accept that and focus on our lives. Why? Because if we did we’d never find joy in anything! After going through my favorite videos I started to feel better. My spirits lifted and my appreciation for guts and blood renewed, I decided to go back to the site that led me to the craziness of the last week. I noticed a notification in my chat box on the gore site my cousin’s friend found me on.
“Hey sorry it took a minute, we had to move locations. I’m giving you one more chance to back out of this cause I guarantee it’s gonna fuck you up more. I’d much rather you get some goddamn therapy than hang with me or any of the even weirder people here.”
I contemplated how to respond. The message was fresh which meant they’d likely respond soon. I thought about how pleasant it was to live kinda normally, hanging with Abdul and mainly worrying about grades. But then, I thought about how much I’d have to start unpacking if I wanted to go down the path of normalcy, and how it would be impossible without snitching on myself. I guess it's wrong to call myself damaged goods but if that was an accurate description for anyone it was me. Besides, this was an opportunity to live a life that so few did successfully! Being under the wing of someone who knew the ropes of this stuff! It would probably get me killed but it would at least be a more interesting ride than a long slow life of sinking into depression. Risk and excitement? Or regret and monotony? Yeah, I knew what to pick.
“I’m still interested, got a schedule?” I waited in bated breath for a few minutes, worrying I’d missed my shot, but they hit me back.
“Yeah, next Friday, I’m picking you up after you get home. Get some good rest till then, you’ll need it.”
My face lit up, was it scary? Hell yes! Was I excited FUCK YEAH! No matter what happened next, I knew it would make it worth the risk for the thrill alone.

La República Dominicana, siendo una nación relativamente pequeña, cuenta con una enorme diversidad territorial en comparación con otras naciones que suelen ser más grandes. Pero, ¿por qué un país tan pequeño tiene tantas divisiones territoriales? ¿Qué medidas pueden tomar en cuenta la población y sus mandatarios para favorecer una mejor administración?

1. Un referéndum: es la mejor opción a la hora de optar por un cambio en la estructura de las divisiones territoriales del país. Se deberá explicar a la nación cuáles serán los beneficios de estos cambios y cómo se puede mejorar el manejo administrativo para ejecutar el bienestar del pueblo.
   
2. Reorganizar y eliminar provincias, haciendo que las divisiones territoriales sean menos y que se pueda tener un mejor control administrativo sobre las provincias más sobresalientes de la nación.
   

Hi, I've been dancing Bachata for over 2 years now - mainly Moderna and Dominicana.
My teacher keeps telling me to "dance into the floor". And while I kind of get what she means, I basically shouldn't lift my knee too much, I find it soooo difficult to get it right.
Does anybody have tips for me, how I can improve this? I also find it hard to "fix your basics" when you've danced the basic steps differently for 2 years ....

So this is so embarrassing, but up until I was 5 I was bilingual, I am half Dominican. I had my abuelos watch me everyday but then they moved back to República Dominicana and my Dad, even though Spanish was his 1st language he refused to speak it unless it was w/ his siblings and they were saying things they didn't want us cousins to understand. He told me I could always learn it back when I was older like he did with English at 13 but I never did and sadly fall into the no sabo category. My question is, Is there an app or good source that teachers specifically Dominican Spanish. I know our Spanish is a lot different because we use African and Taíno words (which I absolutely love) along with dropping certain letters like amor turning into "amoi". I'm now 33 and it is so embarrassing being a Dominicans who can't speak Spanish, especially our Spanish.