The bent-backed retiree drags a water cart from the hydrant to the shack where he lives. The jacuzzi jets in some hotel. It is not the same water.
On Saint Sylvester night few homes displayed parties or music, at least in Havana. But I felt relief that the year was ending. Of 2011, with its advances overstated by propaganda and its setbacks silenced, once was enough.
The market for hair is gaining strength in a nation that oscillates between the imperatives of coquetry and material difficulties.
Exhausted from imagining a distant future that could be delayed five years or a decade, we no longer want to even predict the coming week.
This week we've enjoyed one of the many festivals of trova music that have begun, this time, in Santa Clara province.
The last time Mahmoud Ahmadinejad stepped on Cuban soil, Fidel Castro's illness had been announced a few weeks prior, generating tons of speculation.
What urgent solution will be applied so that these tragedies won't continue to be a part of our daily landscape?
We are 11 million common criminals, whose misdeeds range from buying milk on the black market to having a satellite dish -- fugitives from a criminal code that strangles us. We are a population almost imprisoned.
We hope she will not miss the opportunity and will comport herself consistent with the clamor for democracy, instead of opting for a complicit silence before a dictatorship.
