Last time I saw Fidel Castro was a couple of years ago in an Oliver Stone documentary. He was marching around his office to show us how fit and virile he kept himself. He did about a hundred laps a day and I couldn't help but notice he was wearing Nikes, the pinup brand for capitalism via exploitation of the weak. Very strange, considering what he stands for (but not, as the case may be, in)
Well, no matter how good the office-marching regime was, time got Fidel. After being sidelined for months with major health problems, he's released pictures to the world to reassure us all that he's just fine thankyou very much.
Why didn't someone tell Fidel that the film of him walking and talking looks more like Weekend At Bernie's III. Right down to his outfit and movements.
The pictures made me sad. They made me wonder what makes someone so desperate to hold onto his job, his place in the world, his life, that he is in complete denial of the fact that he is not okay.
That's the thing about Cuba: time. You can walk down streets frozen in time, the cars, the buildings, the music. The people move through their life cycles on those streets, between those walls, and the scene stays the same.
But no matter how long Fidel Castro has managed to stop the clock in Cuba, it's a battle that not even he can win. Time will always be the victor.
The cars have stopped starting, the buildings have long since started crumbling.
And Fidel is dying.
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