Cuba was a land until then was a country I never set foot in. Still, being Cuban-American was a massive part of my identity, having been reared by a family of exiled immigrants rich in culture but tortured by its politics.
The journey to Cuba was an attempt to connect with the source of who I was through firsthand experience in my ancestral land. These were some of the moments captured zipping around the island, meeting my extended family for the first time.
I never felt more at home yet so appreciative of my family’s risks and sacrifices to start over.