Composting

I have lived in many places more time than the time I spent in my own country. Countless nights I have slept in Santo Domingo and Puerto Rico without loosing in my mind the feeling of being Cuban. My first four years were the only ones I lived in Cuba, from which I don’t remember quite much. From that experience I can say it is a colorful country full of coffee and sugar; a country with humor in its people. I feel proud of being Cuban. Beautiful Island of sun and coconut killed by a few, or many idiots that do not appreciate the beauty of the heat of your happy and tired people. Cubans are an stange race. We suffer, we split, we go away, but our hearts keep caged back there, I think it is the only place they can beat alive. I hope to see my people in their country, instead of the prison they are now. I hope to see them free at last, without the fear of dreaming and the hope of living.