I don’t usually get involved in political debates if I feel I don’t have the preparation or knowledge to offer valuable insights.

People, dreams, eras, go by while I remain stuck in the same place. Every farewell leaves a footprint, a vacuum impossible to fill.

Here I am the skeptic, tired of this routine, of mosquitoes, shortages, & blackouts, searching for things in Cuba that are still beautiful.

An anonymous young man walks down the street carrying a worn-out pair of sneakers with patched soles—survivors of a thousand battles.

Ever since my daughter started attending the Vocational boarding school, my money seems to have magical powers…

I’m living through a time that some find fascinating. The advance of AI is transforming our lives at breakneck speed, and that frightens me.

“Cuba stains,” wrote a well-known poet from Pinar del Río on his Facebook wall a few days ago. Yamila’s story is not an isolated case…

A visual declaration of fragility and hope, created on an island marked by material scarcity, diaspora, and the creativity of its people.