years I dream of visiting.
Years I imagine walking through those streets, watching the people in the eye, an air completely different from our own ... air that speaks of years of oppression, suffering and hope.
I want to see how they live and where those people know someone who has lived the years of revolution and tell me what it was, I want to drink tequila while someone plays "hasta siempre commander." And feeling numb from the heat, try these mess of fried bananas they do, and feel to have realized a dream when I'm finally in front of the cathedral. I'd go to Santa Clara, imagine what the currency, which triumphantly reaches Havana ... that history has this country.
How exciting to be visiting ..
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