Telex From Cuba ends like the last exhalation of a long, indrawn breath. It’s appropriate considering the outcome of la Gran Revolución. It was Cuba’s great hope to end Batista’s tyranny and American colonialism; finally they could keep their own resources, share their wealth equitably, live the fabulous lives their tourists were enjoying. And then things took a bloody, bitter turn. The revolution stuttered, choked, sputtered out, ground quietly to a halt. Then the embargo drew a dark curtain across the island, and they were heard no more.
PS. I finally, finally got some writing done last night. It felt good. Like a pair of pants I haven’t been able to wear for long time that just fit so right. Next Great American Novel, here I come!