Lien Estrada

A long time ago, a psychologist friend advised me that, in moments of powerlessness I should go to a shooting range.

To remain indifferent to the events now occurring in the Cuban universities would be like betraying our own selves, abandoning our own selves

My aunt tells me, laughing—though what she’s talking about is no laughing matter—that she ran into a friend and they wanted to chat.

Like a prisoner might write on the walls of her cell. Because my house is my home, but for several reasons it has also become my prison.

Guillermo Cabrera Infante’s book Cine o sardinas (Movies or Sardines) wasn’t a clever wordplay to hook readers or a whimsical poetic phrase.

I admit there are many moments when all I want is to disappear from here and never come back for anything in this world.

We were all there at our chosen spots for selling – the ones we grabbed, then said: “This is my spot and I want to work here.”

I’ve decided to try selling my books in some new places. To try my luck, for example, at the Loma de la Cruz (Hill of the Cross) in Holguin.