Old Havana. The old buildings, overwhelmed by the weather and the lack of maintenance, fall. And, when disappearing, they create empty spaces in the middle of a landscape that longs to rejuvenate.
Montones of stones and beams holding peeled structures that can no longer shelter anyone or serve anything.
Except for the children of the neighborhood. That create their own living spaces in them. Their meeting places in which they run, shout and play at will.
They play to hide and pursue between the diverse forms of ruin. And they always find things that serve them to play other different things.
How to play baseball, hitting clothing balls with wooden sticks that were, in their day, part of a family table.
Pepe Navarro
