Diaries Archives - Page 7 of 632

Rediscovering the Taste of Strawberries

For a Cuban immigrant like me, strawberries are often an unfulfilled desire, because in Cuba, they’re practically nonexistent.

Observing what’s happened in recent days, I’ve begun to doubt whether the United States still upholds the rule of law.

Every afternoon, kids from who knows how many places known and unknown congregate to play soccer on the dirt street in front of my house.

Every year, the Federal Police calls us to update our refugee protocol. My wife and I went, with the hope we would receive our residency.

I step out onto the street with an empty backpack and a list. The sun beats mercilessly on the broken streets, and I dodge the potholes…

Every night, when I return from work, I see, right in front of a bus stop, a man— the same man—wrapped in some blankets resting…

Many of these merchants of hardship worked their entire useful life for the State and now survive in the rawest form of indigence.

You open your eyes and realize it’s not the sun that has woken you from your sleep. The persistent sound comes from the neighbor’s house…

Fernando is my coworker. I still remember that when he first started, he was happy to have a source of income…

Winter is leaving us in Cuba, and once again, the illusion of a noticeable change in seasons. That idea of what real cold is like…