They emerged from the smoke like angels looking for their ride back to heaven. Bodies appeared, waving arms issued from the smoggy dark, faces looked meaningfully at the car’s headlights. “Mira,” I shouted, “Watch out!” “No problema, mujer,” the driver responded, not looking in my direction. He careened towards one of the observers, but missedContinueContinue reading “Cuba: Face-to-face with Fidel, December 1993”
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