Author: Irina Pino

A Night at an Ambassador’s Home in Havana

Some days ago, a friend and I went to a reception held at the home of an Ambassador, a very pretty mansion located in Havana’s neighborhood of Miramar. When we arrived, we were greeted by the ambassador and his wife with refined cordiality.

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The Old Custodian

You’d see him come into work with a tattered backpack, a stocky, dark-skinned man with a full head of gray hair. Almost immediately, a yellow dog would come running, merrily wagging its tail, and start playing with him. It would stay with him while he looked after the cars in the lot.

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A Postcard Still of My Havana Neighborhood

The years go by but my neighborhood doesn’t change: the sidewalks are still in shambles, the streetlamp continues to cast a dim, ghastly light, the framboyan tree across the street has no new leaves or flowers, the peeling walls of the corner market (previously a ration store) are still stained with humidity, smelling of rust and old age.

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Inside the Circle with George Harrison

I have always believed people are connected to one another by something that surrounds them, but that those connections must be activated somehow. I sensed this on realizing how close I feel to George Harrison, the artist who, being the most quiet, managed to grow, unaided, and to do things for others.

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A Place for Love and Friendship in Havana

Ana is a woman over sixty. Lonely and without love, she is constantly searching for someone to talk to. To do this, she regularly visits a restaurant where single people in need of company gather. This is the plot of a film by Charlotte Rampling I saw recently.

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My Friend’s Sexual Struggles in Cuba

For her, love involves two people, no matter what their gender. As a teenager, she was interested in having boyfriends. She liked a boy in her high school and began having sexual relations with him. She was the first in her class who boasted of not being a virgin.

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My Memories of Havana’s Maria Grajales Park

The monument is located on Calle 23, between C and D streets, in Vedado, at a park that my family and friends used to frequent. In my childhood years, I would go there in search of some peace and the freshness of nature, to read adventure books, run around and ride my bicycle.

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Other Choices to Love

Can someone fall in love with an operating system? Why can’t we find what we’re looking for in the people that surround us? Are there no flesh-and-blood individuals endowed with the spirituality, interests and moral values that could complement us?

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