A Lazy Tuesday Morning
June 22nd 2007 On the morning of the day that he died, Fidel Castro woke up in a cold sweat. There had been dreams and nightmares before, but those, he knew, were only dreams and night mares. This morning his thoughts were filled with the encroaching American Economic Imperialism. He had dreamed of men in black suits and brief cases storming Havana's beaches Their faces, he noted with disdain, resembled the age
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