Zoe Nightingale

This lovely man, who I'll call Juan Doe, had skin like fresh caramel glowing behind full moon eyes and a smile you needed sunglasses to look directly at. Juan lived and breathed dignity and danced like summer twister. Hot n furious, body twisting and contorting to match the frantic beats of the African drums that surrounded us at the sweaty dance halls he would take me to. Pure machismo was wafting out of every pore while the men (dripping in gold chains) twirled bright lipped women in sky high heels. There was a moment where my mother, who was being spun around by a coke can shaped man dressed in all silk, yelled out to me, " this is heaven!" I LOVE CUBA. I want to eat it and keep a little piece of it inside my body at all times so I can remember one very important thing, THERE IS NO WRONG TIME TO DANCE. There is nothing more fun that watching men and women of all shapes, ages and sizes, blaze across a restaurant floor at 3 pm. He became my city guide. Showing me the nooks and crevices of the crumbling city