I offer a different imaginarie about La Habana in this series. No vintage cars, nor peeling Che Guevera posters; no waves crashing the Malecon, or weathered faces weilding cigars.

I lived in a apartment close to the intersection of 15/E in the Vedadero district of Havana. It featured a line of sturdy trees bearing deep shade, sheltering older citizens (often using canes or walkers) and a family of hyperactive cats. Also a tandem motorcycle.