Author: Caridad

Whenever I come to visit, my uncle is under his blue blanket. It’s made of thick wool and it covers him up to his ears. It doesn’t’ matter if it’s one or three in the afternoon. He says that his headache prompts him to hide that way: under his own blue sky with no clouds.

One afternoon, while we were playing in the schoolyard, the leader of the group decided to play a new game. We weren’t more than seven years old, and all of us wanted to be on the same team as Ricardo, the liveliest.
Most of us were happy when we could be with him and his group, because they were white.

At the moment the camera flashed, she didn’t complain about what she’d never had, though maybe she should have complained about what she wasn’t going to get, what she was losing by marrying a man she didn’t love.

Tato is the owner of a few pigs and a handful of goats-and in Havana, that’s something. However, it’s still not as much as he’s always wanted; like the chains he wears around his neck, which appear to be made of silver, but they aren’t.