18: Between the protestodrome and the deep blue sea

Up against the Malecón, facing the United States Interests Section (the only diplomatic site where Cubans line up 24/7 for visas) rise the Arches of Defeat of the “protestodrome.” Though not Arches of Triumph, it’s as if they were: it suits Cuba to assume the role of victim in mortal danger from imperialism. Without an enemy on the other side of the maritime horizon, without a commercial embargo (which doesn’t stop the US from being one of the Island’s principal trading partners, as long as we pay in cash), without an imminent invasion that’s been delayed our whole lives, the Cuban Revolution would be consumed by its own delusions: it would have no reason to exist. But it would not collapse under its own weight. On the contrary, it would float away on its unbearable lightness. And where do I place myself in this sea of anonymous heads? And you, yourself?

The era that was “giving birth to a heart,” as the troubadour Silvio Rodríguez said, ended up aborting the very last of its guts.