Cuba

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Late night in Havana. We stroll through the old city. It's late but we feel safe. Crime we are assured is negligible, so we take a rickshaw and ask the driver to take us around for five dollars.

He dives down some back streets. We are plunged almost into darkness. Malcolm gets uneasy. He fidgets. He is worried. Is not this Castro's famed socialist state? there's nothing to worry about.

Then I see it. A dead woman sprawled across the pavement. The rickshaw driver ignores the corpse and pedals even faster.

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Photos

stray dog- outside one of Hemingways
watering-holes