In Cuba, the nights are very dark indeed when there’s yet another power outage—but as much as possible, life goes on. People find their way around in the pitch dark, cyclists loom out of the blackness, children hang out on the streets by the light of flashlights. At the same time, the disruption appears to create intimacy: a priest takes the opportunity to open the Bible by candlelight and reads about the creation of light and darkness, an aged blind singer plays the guitar for his wife in their bedroom, a boy and his teacher play endless games of chess in the half-light, a fisherman heads calmly into the water with a lantern. Headlights from passing cars flash over houses shrouded in darkness, while the people inside sing and talk under the glow of portable lights.
