In 2018, I set out to do more than photograph boats. I wanted to document an emotional geography: Havana Bay, its people, and their routines. With a Canon 400D and a Nikon D80 in hand, I patiently and determinedly explored the edges of the bay.
From Havana’s seafront, along the Malecón, to the vicinity of El Morro, I focused my lens on the small and large stories that unfold where land and water meet.
I captured ships setting sail and others waiting, ferries crossing tirelessly, and faces weathered by salt and sun. I photographed fishermen, rod in hand, facing the sea with the same enduring hope, and gazes lost in the horizon.
I worked with what I had: an 18–55 mm lens that allowed me to get close to the intimacy of the coastline and an 80–200 mm that gave me reach to capture the movements of the harbor and the vastness of the sea. I learned —once again— that the best gear isn’t necessary when passion and purpose guide you.
This series doesn’t just show boats or fishermen. It reveals transit, waiting, struggle, and hope. It’s an honest portrait of life in the bay, where every element —human or not— plays its role with the serenity of someone who has been repeating the same scene for centuries.
Today, by sharing these images, I’m not just showing a place: I’m sharing a part of myself. Because every photograph is also a trace of my own journey.
