Our mujer in Havana


ADD+ meets up in Cuba. He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword. How a story can be created, invented, dreamt up from a few little details, hints, or rumours. Dirty tricks while flirting, being coquettish. Taking the game seriously, sifting reality through a sieve even more biased towards the host than a Champions League referee may be.
ADD+ invents programmes for itself, invents projects and invents clients. From a few scraps of information which others would throw to the chickens, ADD+ cooks up plots which ridicule the Maginot line of castles in the air and whose next link will sketch the Great Wall across the sky in China.
From a conscientious, meticulous gaze, ADD+ rediscovers something which appears, if not by coincidence, then a little unobtrusively, and very often manages to re-find itself. Travelling through Cuba, ADD+ discovers itself in the way Cuban women concoct some kind of relationship based on a glance cast by squinty, frantic eyes underlined with a touch of lust and lechery which greedily try to embrace a burst of curves.
Feigning disinterest, although it took a great hard work to get you to where you are, you thus find yourself with a project of your life without you under discussion, demanding to be called into existence at every stroke of the pen and through discreet babbling over the phone. ADD+, our woman in Havana. You said we’d get to know each other first. I am an honest woman and let me be quite clear. I am a lady in my own house.
They even expect you to cook.