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Havana dreams

February 22, 2016

She imagined what it would be like to ride in the back seat of a Chevrolet Bel Air with the windows down while her driver took her along the Malecón. She imagined the sun setting behind her as they drove, bathing the city in a peach glow.

When she dreamed, she scrubbed away Havana’s crumbling buildings, the empty store shelves, the secret police. She thought, only, of the serenity of a quiet city, the light, the sound of the lapping the sea wall. She was as likely to get there as to the moon. Truth did not hamper her.

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