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Reader. Gamer. Binary Mystic.
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Thursday, March 03, 2005
Mea Cuba, Mea Magna Cuba
We are residents of a city that lives in the shadow of its past.
Our Cuba is more dream that reality,
and we spend our waking hours navigating between the nostalgia
of our parents
and the grit of our day to day.
Because todo esto no pasa en Cuba,
but then again,
nada pasa en Cuba
because for us there is no Cuba.
The island is more
an attitude
than a geographical spot.
It's composed of mentiritas, cohibas, que volas, and oye.
It wears a guayabera when it goes out at night.
It plays Beny and Celia on its way to work in the morning.
Miami only exists for us in reference to Cuba,
As a loose beam,
or a tettering taby cat.
Our Cuba is a dream of
a dream of
a dream
that is slowly becoming
una pesadilla.
6:49 AM
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