If I were to visit this produce market today it would not look like this.
This market existed in Barrio Chino in Central Havana. Quietly I entered this market, camera by my side, just observing, sensing the image. I love faces, and in all the books in regards to Cuba…I see faces but there of a happy people holding a lobster, sunning at the beach, just living in a paradise that in all reality does not exist for the Cuban people.
I have no idea how many pesos she had on her but I sense that she was trying to stretch them to buy what would feed her family the longest. Her shirt…St.Tropez…Montecarlo... places she’ll never experience…purchased at a government store selling donated clothing meant to be given to the Cubans.
The sign in the background used repeatedly with each anniversary of the “revolution” erased and written in with the appropriate number…like a beaten wife that contemplates the day it will all end…stills say: I love you...
This market existed in Barrio Chino in Central Havana. Quietly I entered this market, camera by my side, just observing, sensing the image. I love faces, and in all the books in regards to Cuba…I see faces but there of a happy people holding a lobster, sunning at the beach, just living in a paradise that in all reality does not exist for the Cuban people.
I have no idea how many pesos she had on her but I sense that she was trying to stretch them to buy what would feed her family the longest. Her shirt…St.Tropez…Montecarlo... places she’ll never experience…purchased at a government store selling donated clothing meant to be given to the Cubans.
The sign in the background used repeatedly with each anniversary of the “revolution” erased and written in with the appropriate number…like a beaten wife that contemplates the day it will all end…stills say: I love you...
Oh...the market still exist...newer stalls made of metal...and higher taxes.
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