Author: Lorenzo Martin Martines

Mom’s visit to Delia, an old friend of hers, almost transported me back to my childhood, or to my daughter’s childhood.

“January’s rice is here!!” Marta shouted at the top of her lungs, while she climbed up the stairs in our apartment building.

Like every week, last Sunday I went to visit Mom. Like every Sunday, the journey becomes a real adventure.

I realize that it’s not that I am depressed, but that my island of joy, that same island of tobacco, rum, and guaracha, is depressed, sad…

It was my day to go line up at the bank to cash in my mother’s pension. I used to do this at a nearby ATM on 42nd and 29th Streets.

Asking for singer-songwriter Carlos Varela’s forgiveness, I’ve used the title of one of his songs because I couldn’t find a better one.

For the first time in a long time, I felt endless love for my little sister, my only sister. The situation took me back 30 or 40 years ago…

Last week, I told you that I was getting paid to stand watch over people’s places in line at the gas station in their cars.

I’m looking forward to the delay in the gasoline coming in order to continue in my new occupation here in Havana.

I haven’t written for a weeks now about the adventures of being Cuban in Cuba. I want to apologize to the people who follow my diary entries…