It is much more than a stone fortress. It is an emblem, a witness that has accompanied us for centuries and generations.

Current events in Cuba make me return again and again to photographs taken in the past. It might seem like an exercise in dusting off archives, but it’s quite the opposite. By running in circles, these images, far from aging, are renewed from time to time. As if time on the island didn’t advance in a straight line, but rather revolved around itself, always returning to the same starting point. This photographic journey is also related to the feeling that what happens in Cuba seems to pass — by mandate of some unwritten logic — through an absurd sieve. Photo: Kaloian. Photo: Kaloian. Photo: Kaloian. One of the most recent chapters in the surreal saga once again has the internet as its protagonist. The photos are from ten years ago, when internet access spread through Wi-Fi hotspots in parks, hotels and certain public spaces, the so-called street internet. People crowded any park with Wi-Fi, holding up phones searching for a signal, street vendors selling refill cards whispering “Wi-Fi, Wi-Fi,” and computers everywhere, as if it were an internet cafe with no coffee, chairs or tables. Photo: Kaloian. Since then, internet access in Cuba has oscillated between the miraculous and the...

In September 2015, Pope Francis' visit to Cuba unleashed an unusual wave of popular excitement. Between religious fervor and collective curiosity, the island experienced a unique celebration where the sacred and the secular intertwined in a profoundly Cuban way.

Despite the crisis, the death of its founder and the drop in tourism, this Havana project maintains its mysticism and its work, with art and music as protagonists.

For my people, I wish the essential.

One of the greatest Cuban film directors can cross our paths any day, on a street in Havana.

I used to be one of those people called “festival-goers.” I spent the day, from morning to night, walking quickly down 23rd Avenue from one theater to another.

In a leap of three decades, the actress who gave life to Sofía in “Explosion in a Cathedral” returns to join the cast of a literary classic brought to the screen.

The Cuban capital turns 505 years old. We pay tribute to it with a memorable song and some snapshots that try to capture the city’s faces.

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.