GUANTANAMO MOM AMOUR
As in the old Alais Resnais movie I can no longer say Guantanamo mon amour and even less living a romance under the rubble of a war. Yes, it looks like a city after a bombing, only the center of the Marti Park rounded up as a technicolor image for tourists who pass by in their micro-refrigerated ones is pleasing to the eye. Through my house a crier is selling ice cream in that terrible summer or offering dried mangoes out of season.
Everyone looks for life as they can. The salary is not enough and you have to look for extra money to buy food and clothing. I do not understand the obsession of the Guantanamero - or it will be of the entire Cuban people - by the coba. The empty stomach is not seen but a good brand cowboy is exhibited with ostentation. Underdevelopment mind.
I see the Concha of Marti Park as small as I saw it before and the parish of Santa Catalina looks like a simple hermitage of a town lost in the distance of the countryside. The fountain of the Avenue and Drowned where I used to sit down to take the fresco, sports a spectacular architectural monument that deforms it all. Who comes up with such a sculpture in an emblematic place.
To the Huambo cinema they have had to put a Roman arcades to couple it to the surroundings. It occupies the space where the Luke cinema used to be, an ice cream parlor and a space where exhibitions of exemplary cattle were made. In all that space they made a single cinema, small, austere with the style of the Giron or Breztnian construction that reigned in those times.
The worst thing is to have an image of the past without seeing that everything changes but changes for the worse. The city has become a mass of small two-story plate houses. All the same. The landscape does not change as long as it looks.
No. I cannot say "Hiroshima mom amour" has not yet been bombed but people walk the streets as if it were.
DR ORLANDO VICENTE ALVAREZ
CUBAN URUGUAYAN
GENIUS
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