The title of this article comes from a simple statement by someone who doesn’t know that we are going round and round like the Earth, on its imaginary axis, which even takes us around the Sun, but things just aren’t that simple here in Cuba.
Here, we go round and round more than we should, we dance in the spinning house, we spin on our heels, we get tangled in a casino circle and rotate in lines.
A line in Cuba isn’t the same as a line anywhere else in the world. On this archipelago, that has been bathed in water and double boiled, lines are rowdy, twisted lines without any destination, a trail of people everywhere, a mesh of groping and curses, the perfect place for scoundrels to pickpocket and cut in, cheating their neighbor in line with age-old scams, getting ahead a few spots just to tick people off in any way they can.
Lines in Cuba are commotions of desperate people with bloodshot and worried eyes, on the edge of their nerve to see if they will make it to the counter before everything runs out, or everything does run out and nothing is left, and those five hours have just been a waste of time under the Caribbean’s scorching sun.