![]() His origin story carries a hint of the divine, though Martínez doesn’t attend Mass anymore. His trademark septum piercing is conspicuously missing-he wanted to change it up, he said, to be more relaxed. The only stealth hints at his global superstardom-other than the fact that my cab driver just declared his fealty-are a few diamonds here and there, including on the face of what looks like a women’s Chanel watch on his wrist. He has piano fingers, a cropped circle beard, and pristine teeth. His thicket of curls is topped with a backward snapback. He’s been wearing the same outfit every day for days-a striped polo, moisture-wicking shorts, and squishy slides, all in buttery shades of beige. ![]() “I’ve eaten about 70 croquetas,” he tells me in Spanish as still more plates arrive. On this tropically humid Monday in July, however, it is still his so-called year of relaxation. “Now more than ever,” he says, “I feel more confident in talking about what I think, what I feel, and how I am living through my music.” Bad Bunny’s fifth studio release has the potential to be his most personal.
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