I wrote a poem about my first impression of Havana. The buildings stood tall, once grand and polished, now grey and decayed. The streets alive as people move through a labyrinthe of colonial architecture. Dancers graced the fort, draped in vivid blue, skirts fanned for the camera. People with smiles and good cheer greeted friends and strangers. Cars, classic and colourful flowed through the streets, a reminder of the past. A city frozen in time.
