The car that took me from Jose Marti Airport in Havana to my grandmother’s house in Aguada de Pasajero was old, blue, and beautiful. It wasn’t until we were away from the city, driving on an empty road with the windows rolled down—late afternoon sky to the left, wind-swept smoke to the right from fields set ablaze in the distance—that I took notice of the loud, yet fatigued, roar of… Continue reading




Recent Comments