Dreams of Cuba

and a visit will probably not be realized in my lifetime. I will have to content remembering the tales of my grandmother, told to me as I sat on a little railroad step while she sat in her chair by her bedroom window, or over the dinner table. Stories of privilege, sugar plantations, arranged marriages, travel by horse and carriage, her mother's sixth sense for finding scorpions on the tile floors; of dictators, and losing the LaPiedra sugar fortune to the betrayal of family members; the bark of the ceiba tree, like gray satin, she would say, and her mother's silk slippers, which she always wore until they immigrated to America.

I have just been to today's Cuba with Olivier Vin, a talented, young photojournalist from Europe. I have seen through his eyes, the Cuba one never sees. There are places other than Havana, and while he captures that well, he takes us into the interior. He documents well the contrast of the two classes, the opulence and the grinding poverty, and the spirit of its people as well as the beauty of the countryside.

If you are curious about Cuba, here's a link: www.heymana.com. He can also be found at www.jpgmag.com, where I hang out as well.

Thank you, Olivier.