In Cuba, dogs are an essential part of any neighborhood scene. Many, like their owners, seem to have resigned themselves to waiting.

In this corner of Miami, nostalgia and hope continue to be the common thread that unites two worlds, two shores.

Silvio Rodríguez provides context to a snapshot that shows him, Pablo Milanés, Vicente Feliú and Noel Nicola around a game of the quintessential Cuban pastime.

One of the largest open-air galleries was not always the artistic heartland we know today.

This neighborhood is the icon of the Cuban diaspora worldwide. Its streets tell the story of an identity that is still palpable.

A city of contrasts, where tradition and modernity coexist, and cultural diversity is a constant that manifests itself in unexpected ways.

“The border community is binational. Some people cross every day to work and study, in both directions. Some families are divided between two cities.” They are called sister cities.

In recent years, the business of illicit human trafficking has been taken over by drug cartels and other transnational criminal organizations.

Given the uncertainty surrounding the U.S. election results in November, the possibility arises of a new wave of migration to the southwestern border of the country.

Every year, there is a string of statistics on the flow of illegal immigration across the southern border of the United States. Behind each of those numbers, there is a face, and a story.

With an inefficient drainage system, sometimes a drizzle is enough for hundreds of potholes and corners to reflect, on a murky surface, fragments of the city.

A spot can be a personal refuge, a place full of memories; a starting point and also a destination, a return.

Every time I return to this city, known as the Tierra Caliente, leads me back to the bay. The trip over its waters makes me evoke collective history, and my own.

Officially it is called Céspedes Park, but for Holguín residents it is simply San José Park. My family says that, when I was about 3 years old, I insisted they take me there.

The Cuban capital at the end of the 1950s, on the street and in full color, captured by an anonymous lens.

On April 5, 1984, the first of the Cuban singers-songwriters’ concerts was held in a country that had just returned to democracy.

Among the 30,000 missing persons reported during 1976 and 1983, there are two Cubans; they were young members of the diplomatic representation in Argentina.

When reviewing images captured in my hometown, I discovered that there was a prism of longing for moments, people, places or situations from the past.

Concepts of quantum physics and their application to everyday life unexpectedly led me to think about Cuba.

Located meters from the main entrance of the Santo Ángel Custodio church, on Compostela Street, she seems to walk slowly and with a distressed expression.

Photographing it, silent and empty, was overwhelming. But this city is not like that. It is vibrant, boisterous, brimming with stories.

A catchy chorus served as an excuse for me to approach one of the intrepid divers and take pics of the group.

Thousands of kilometers away, “the damn circumstance of water everywhere” continues to mark me.

I think I’ve learned to peek into the voice that hides behind some smiles and glances; sometimes jubilant, sometimes melancholic.