This Cuban Life

When I walk through Old Havana, I don’t feel as free as I’d like to be. It’s my city and my country; however there are simple things I can’t do.
Though I’m a writer, I can’t enter the Cuban Book Institute, located in the Palacio del Segundo Cabo, without leaving my ID at the door and picking up a pass. However, if I were a foreigner, I’d have free access to not only walk around without anyone wondering where I was going. Moreover, I’d also be able take pictures of the beautiful home which the Institute serves as.
Since I’m Cuban, I’m not allowed to snap pictures of my compatriots who choose to make their living offering themselves in the street (by telling fortunes, demonstrating the abilities of their pets or simply posing with a cigar in their mouth and a red flower in their hair).
Some cover their faces with fans while others argue with me telling me I can’t take their pictures if I don’t pay them. That was the case of the gentleman who makes his three Dachshunds —dressed as people— sit or stand (according to his whim).

The Limitations of Being Cuban by Irina Echarry at Havana Times.