Cuba

I’ve Returned to Cunning Havana Several Times ...All While Tempering That Nagging Urge to Put a Lens Between Us. -Ben Guez

It’s feb. 8, 2008 and it’s my very first day in the city. I wander around the narrow streets of Habana Vieja with my finger joined to the shutter button of my dad’s old Canon point n’shoot. Ten hours later, I am emptied of camera and cash by chokehold, but the bruises are only in my mind. For the next week all I can afford to do is sit on park benches and watch: a group of school girls in brown skirts; janitors in blue overalls, bulky arms and sweating backs; a thin, clean-shaven policeman in modest grey. My own circular, informal parade. There are contributions of contraband rum at 9 a.m. at La Bonita and the rare ocean breeze charging through the stifling Caribbean afternoon, night, morning and afternoon again. I adjust aperture with my pupils and focus with my nose.

Since then I’ve returned to cunning Havana several times with heavy dslrs and nimble apps, all while tempering that nagging urge to put a lens between us.