Diaries

My Friend the Teacher

I have a friend who is a teacher, but not a Zen teacher. He is 23 and gives art classes at a primary school in Vieja Linda, a marginal neighborhood on the outskirts of the capital. I don’t know how he manages it, but I think he likes what he does, despite the fact that the furniture in his house looks like the attire of a fakir.

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Alamar

I hadn’t yet mentioned that I live in Alamar (wing-of-the-sea). It’s a pretty name, and the place is pretty as well. The place, not the buildings. Here the sky is a pallet of colors that any painter would envy.

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Occupation

My occupation? That’s a long story. Many of the people I know don’t exercise the career that they studied. I graduated as a Pharmacy Dispensary Technician, then I learned to carve wood, to knit, and I studied Theology. I have always liked to write.I still have diaries from when I was a child.

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Death is natural, life is construction

Today is like any other day, in which for some reason I am thinking about my deceased mother. I’ll never know if I could have loved her more. That’s what death is about: never more. Our affection is appraised and proven through a series of symbolic events: unselfish devotion, the desire to understand the other, the sacrifice of personal interests…

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My Neighbor

I have a neighbor who often drops by my house when the Brazilian soap opera is on. She’s over 55, but has continued working despite being past retirement age, having labored for more than 30 years as the secretary of a textile company here in the Cuban capital.Yesterday she mentioned that she was feeling upset.When she arrived at work she was approached by a close friend who serves as the company’s gardener.

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The Joys of Observing

If you are a woman and have also had the dubious good luck of being pretty, sensual and charming, which is very much the same thing as being flypaper in a candy store, then you will have to wait for retirement age to enjoy the enormous pleasure, of looking around on your own terms, calmly and freely, without anyone looking at you.

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Sitting on the Globe

What can I say that doesn’t seem deaf or blind? What path can I take where I don’t feel like an invalid? I hesitate to affirm anything because I have a negligible access to information.On the other hand, I can say without a doubt, that all of the Cuban media pass on the same discourse with the same take.

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My Town

From the moment that I get out onto the streets in Cojimar, located 15 minutes by bus from the city of Havana, there’s always some neighbor approaching me to ask how I think the transportation will go that day, more so if it’s Monday.

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