Havana solar. size : 40x60 cm.

The soul of the lot creaks, wounded and eternal,
with its cracked skin and its earthy voice.
The sun draws shadows on worn walls,
silent witnesses of times past.

An old staircase, tired of steps,
It rises among ruins, defeated in embraces.
Cables entangle their truncated dreams,
weaving its silent knots in the air.

A girl looks at us, her face is questioning,
dark eyes where the world meets.
The child at his side, with his back to the wind,
carries in its shadow the weight of time.

The women watch with a steely gesture,
They whisper stories of love and fear.
His hands hold the life that springs forth,
in shady courtyards, on remote afternoons.

And even though the sun burns his worn skin,
and time slips through silent cracks,
In the Havana solar, life persists,
like an old bolero that never gives up.