Around this time last year, I was traveling in Cuba. On the road across the length of the island. Such an exceptional place, and even more so when saturated in spring rain. These were taken on a special day. These images washed over me like a dream. Looking at the photos now, I’m reminded of the fresh smell of that warm Caribbean air. I remember the feel of the humidity, the breeze, the sound of the rain, and the low rumble of thunder rolling. The season was changing. I was changing. What is it about Cuba that draws us out, that lifts life, calls it to the surface?