The man who had been peering silently but intently over his shoulder for some time finally gestured towards the camera with his chin. When he spoke, in broken Spanish, his voice was soft, inquiring. “Can you see them?”, he asked. Gustavo paused, looking at the man for a long minute. “Who?” he gently asked. “The dead” the man replied…..
“Wow!! Nobody ever comes back to Cuba!” roared one of the men seated at a desk behind the rations office counter. He was leaning forward and peering over Jeorge’s shoulder at an 8 x 11 print of a portrait that I had brought back for him. Jeorge’s face glowed with quiet amazement, as if surprised to see himself there in the image in his own environment, at the counter where he had stood nearly every day of the past 7 years….