The sky clouded over about 4 in the afternoon, it was the only thing lacking for me to feel perfect. I think that Jaunes gave his concert for peace and for freedom, at least all of us who were there by our own will felt so (I know there were those who worked that afternoon from sun up to sun down and they didn’t feel free).
I liked hearing, in the Plaza, words like “change”, “the future is yours, you young people”, “Free Cuba”, “Exile”, “the united Cuban family.” Like those below, up there on the podium some were more free than others. Because freedom at times is a personal choice, some up there let it pass.
After the concert a friend told me that in any case many couldn’t take part: some were pressured, others censured, others couldn’t enter Cuba and too many suffered in prison. It’s true, but it’s also true that one swallow does not make the spring, and we couldn’t ask Juanes for the miracle of the loaves and fishes; he accomplished enough, for a few hours dying “The Eye of Sauron” white.
This is an excerpt to a version of the song, Epitaph for Vladimir Visotski by Karsmarski Jacek (Polish dissident songwriter), which includes Ciro Diaz in his latest album, The Blue Slug, that I listened to compulsively for at least two months, especially on the street with my mp3 inherited from a friend who now has an I-pod. (Download the lyrics here) (Download the recording and album cover here) The song (in summary, which runs about ten minutes) is about a desperate artist going through the circles of hell in search of an answer or death, and at the end of his journey there is only loneliness and the weight of the supreme power above himself. So I found myself at times catching the bus across Havana at 12 noon in August under the perennial sunshine and with the distressing feeling of not going anywhere, or arriving too late, or going for pleasure ... I feel that I have already arrived at the eighth enclosure (this is the finale of the song) where there is nothing, and I feel useless and empty, and I look at people without faith who walk along the street and who have so much fear that they no longer know they're afraid, and who have seen so many Roundtables and so many news broadcasts that they no longer know what belongs to reality or just to the TV screen. They cannot discern that they no longer believe, but cannot disbelieve either, and just move along past me not going anywhere.