If this post were to have an appropriate title for a radio soap opera, it would be: “The Guillermos of My Life.” But it doesn’t. I’m writing because I just found my old beat up ID card, and on the line that says Father you can read “Guillermo Jesus.”

Salvador Valdes Mesa, leader of Cuba’s only trade union, has already stated that wages won’t increase for a good while and that our ration cards — will disappear little by little.

I’m terrified of old age. It’s not exactly because of the portending future of sagging breasts, back pains or wrinkles resulting from overly repeated gestures. I’m afraid of aging, especially, because I’m afraid of Cuba.

A few days ago I came across “Resolution 146-2012” of the Ministry of Finances and Prices. It establishes the rate for Internet connections for Cubans at 6 CUC (about $6.50 USD an hour) and 1.50 CUC ($1.65 USD an hour) for international e-mail.

I’m going to request to resign from the union on May 15, I wasn’t able to on the 1st. In the worker evaluation reports they do on me every three months, no longer will they be saying I’m interested in the union’s work.

I have a friend who has taken to stealing bottles of beer and rum from bars and shops in different parts of the city. In the distracted moments of salesclerks, he’ll help himself to the refrigerators – and even close them as a courtesy.

I had felt something was wrong when the eye doctor — in her immaculate white coat — asked if I wanted the prescription made out for making my purchase in national currency pesos or in hard-currency CUCs.

This is an attempt for this Cuban woman to give a kick — perhaps still too timidly — against the wall of silence (or grief) that has been erected here. It’s aimed to strike back against our obligatory, necessary, wise, imposed or self-enforced silences.