Presenting a book that has only been published in a foreign language and been sleeping on a hard drive for almost an entire decade, is a strange experience.
Even more so when this presentation takes place in a backyard where sparrows, identical to the ones I can see from my balcony in Alamar, flutter about and the warm climate completes the feeling of “being at home”.
But, I’m not. There are too many skyscrapers in this city, and smooth streets filled with modern cars that make me feel like I’m displaced in time and space.
I hear voices with a Cuban accent, laughter. I carry on saying “here” when I talk about Cuba. I keep thinking that those friends that I used to meet at “Torre de Letras”, or at the “Poesia sin Fin” festival, will walk through the door at any moment.