A new day should mean a new adventure, a new approach to our duties and rights, a constant growth and rebirth, but in the narrow framework of a routine instituted and supervised by the State there is no room for logical thought. I robotically go out in the street and find with regret that everyone has a warning side on their forehead reading, “No I can’t.” I look at the eyes which, paralyzed, should meet mine and they don’t, and I notice they’re looking with dread at my own forehead…
I shake my old wristwatch, which is so lazy it decided to stop marking the minutes, and I verify that once again it has stopped: I think, then, that it’s likely someone has pressed “pause” on the Cuban film of my life.
January 31 2011
