Following the American embargo after the fall of the Soviet Union, the clampdown on Cuba has been completed. The precarious financial resources of the island have been quickly exhausted and degradation has spread everywhere. This is obvious above all in the beautiful colonial buildings whose structure has by now been patched up over and over again. But this isn’t all: cars, street signs, roads and antiquated electrical systems climbing on the faded walls of the buildings. It’s as if time stopped thirty years ago, landing on the rust that covers metal sheets, on cars, in the salt invading the facades of the Malecon. But this structural immobility is strongly contrasted by the music, which pours into the streets, flows into the houses, the old taxis, the workshops, over the squares and inside cafés. Like Havana, it enters your veins and your heart.