Author: Jorge Milanes

A month ago Finita got her “self-employed worker” license that permits her to sell light refreshments in the street. She didn’t want to sell other food because at her age she doesn’t have the physical strength to carry so much on her back.

It had been a while since I’d sat in Plaza de Armas. I’m always racing here and there in the daily agitation of work and home. But today I made a parenthesis in my life.

Martinez Fure remained silent for several seconds … until in a perfectly modulated voice he began to speak about the emergence of Africa, humanity’s place of origin, the wealth of the continent, the immigration process and slave routes toward Europe, Asia and the Americas.

Habanastation, the latest film by Ian Padron, provokes comments, opinions and assessments not only from specialized critics, but from all movie lovers in Cuba.

My neighbor Esperanza is a Cuban descendent of Spaniards. Her parents came to Cuba in the first half of the previous century to make their fortune. Though they never became rich, they worked hard to become the owners of a bodega (a small store), located in the Vibora neighborhood.

“Run, Esperancita!” yelled the man who lives two houses down from where I live, after the thunderous crash in his kitchen.

I had an enormous craving for a beer. It was Friday, so instead of going directly home when leaving work, I found my way to a more affordable restaurant that generally charges in domestic currency. They make some awesome drinks there.

This woman went to the store to exchange the washing machine she bought there two months ago. She took out the receipt and pointed out to the salesperson the amount of time covered by the guarantee for them to exchange the appliance.

On Sunday my mother picked up a copy of the La Tribuna newspaper, and after reading it for barely a couple minutes, she closed the paper slowly. At the same instant her face reflected concern.