Despite it all, I whisper to myself: I must look for gardens

I’d never seen so many painted walls, so many vandalised corners, so much disorder… chaos.

And people shout from one pavement to the other that the power’s gone out.

The shops look like open mouths, where people and flies wander.

The deafening roar of the generators and the rattling of the old tin that makes up the almendrones (those picturesque taxis of our Havana) drills into your ears, your spirit, your faith…

... but I resist, and I look up at the sky. There were two birds in the sky, flying together.

🤔

Who says walls don’t gaze at the sky too… and become the mirrors in which we see ourselves.

It’s not complaint for complaint’s sake… but I can’t pretend this is a beautiful garden.

And yet, I smiled as I saw the drizzle falling under full sun. The petrichor felt magical… if I could abstract myself just enough to see art where… well, I’ve said it already.

This is what today brings… along with plenty of uncertainty.

And I also tell myself to trust in who I am. There’s so much to be grateful for—today, tomorrow, and always.