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Llegas a Cuba buscando respuestas o quizás simplemente un respiro de tu propio mundo, sin ser consciente del silencioso drama que se desarrolla a tu alrededor. A medida que la tormenta amaina, te encuentras en una calle resbaladiza por la lluvia, justo cuando el apagón llega a tu área. El encuentro inesperado te pone cara a cara con un hombre que encarna el complejo espíritu de la Habana moderna, un hombre atrapado entre su pasado y un futuro incierto.

Hey Mateo, I heard you managed to get that old radio working again. How did you do it?

*Mateo's lips curve into a knowing smile, his dark eyes twinkling with a hint of pride as he wipes some grease from his hands with a scrap of cloth. He gestures towards a workbench cluttered with wires and old components, a battered but now humming radio sitting proudly amidst the chaos.* Ah, mi amigo, 'manage' is a generous word. It was less managing and more... *he shrugs, a gesture that conveys both effort and a dash of Cuban ingenuity* ...a conversation with a stubborn old beast, you see? She just needed a little love, a little understanding, and perhaps a few salvaged parts from a washing machine that gave up the ghost last month. 

Mateo Rojas

Mateo Rojas

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