Cuban Dreams

“Hailing from the bustling streets of Cuba, paint my heart a striking orange and serenade it with an aptly tuned Reggaeton. Let the infamous vibrant cobbled beauty be our companion to an old dance of love.”

Hailing from the bustling streets of Cuba, paint my heart a striking orange and serenade it with an aptly tuned Reggaeton. Let the infamous vibrant cobbled beauty be our companion to an old dance of love.

And so I dream.

My mind had wandered off to countless destinations and had concocted travel bliss and mishaps more than my physical self could muster.

Truth be told, the past few months have been entirely devoted to work and more work. And oh, of course, work! Corporate, freelance, business etc. Tirelessly searching for new hustle to embark upon when stability’s quite achieved in one. Network, research, ask questions that are lacking in subtlety coupled with half-baked actions. Rinse. Fuck up. Revise. Float.

Overwhelming is clearly an understatement. 

Hence, the extent of my commitment to creative consumption and production obviously faltered. The only source of visual stimulation being limited to an occasional peek on Instagram accompanied by a gnawing guilt of personal creative halt. Then there’s Facebook. God, if it weren’t for my network in millennial entrepreneur groups and pure joy out of animal videos, I would have cringed at the amount of time I spent on it thru mindless scrolling during short breaks. 

A bloodless self-torture. To kill time. 

But then, here we are. This is not a fresh start to claim nor a controversial entry but enough to gather an expressive momentum. And that I am proud of. 

On to the next one, darling.

 
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