Cuba

For most Americans, Cuba exists in a fog of myth and mystery — caught somewhere between Cold War propaganda and Instagram filters. The first time I boarded a flight to Havana, I felt a quiet tension tugging at me. Was this allowed? Was it safe? It felt like crossing an invisible border of history. Cuba is not the dark, dangerous place the embargo-era imagination paints. Instead, it opened itself with warmth and color, rhythm and resilience. It’s a place where contradictions don’t cancel each other out—they coexist. It’s visually rich in a way that feels curated by time rather than design. And for a photographer, Cuba is intoxicating.