Jorge Milanes’s Diary

It’s Still Not My Turn

We arranged a table and four chairs outside, sat down and distributed the “bones.” As we began, one player shouted, “You’re not going to win with what you got. Here you go!” slamming down his first domino in the middle of the table. “I think I’d better go look for a bottle of rum to give things a little ambiance,” he then added.

The Swindler

Listening to my mother, I was getting worried and upset. I told her, “How many times do I have to tell you not to open the gate for anybody if you don’t know them!

The Fortune Teller

Walking through the entryway of the old Aldama Palace, situated to one side of Fraternity Park in Havana, it’s customary to see “card throwers” seated on the curb trying to make some money.

More than My Own Friend

I admit that I also fell for that unexpected fallacy of fate, because the day they sacrificed the pig, I had sharpened my teeth, seduced by the fantasy of succulent pork. I was looking forward to the meal perhaps more than my own friend, when he turned the stake to the right as much as to the left of enthusiasm.

The Other Joy

Yesterday was my aunt’s birthday. She’s an 80-year-old woman, with soft gray hair (that she conceals with dye) and who wears glasses (that she uses only to read). Her husband died a year back and, as is still customary among older men and widows, she dresses in black and doesn’t like for music to be heard in her home.

Loneliness and Us

Noticing her state of desperation, I invited her to step outside the office and go for a walk through Old Havana. Finally we decided to sit down on a park bench.

You and Us

Establishing communication with someone different is one of the challenges that many people set out to accomplish daily in the street, because solidarity is one of our characteristics, though necessity sometimes doesn’t allow all of us to be the good guys we would like to be.