Faded blue on the building side, peeling and cracking from time
Shiny, bright blue of the classic car as it rolls by
Royal blue on the Cuban flag, hanging proudly above the shop window
Blue of the sky as it kisses the waves pulsing towards Malecon street
Blue jeans, several pairs, tattered and hung on the line to bask in the sun
A blue anchor posted on the door, inviting us in to rest our heads for the night
Tight blue tank top, hugging the dark curves on a local woman’s swaying hips
Round, blue payphone booths, used more frequently than cells
Crystal blue water of the Bay of Pigs, filled with hundreds of tropical fish
Faded teal shutters, framing the woman leaning out the window, overlooking the street below
Buses marked in blue, Omnibus and Viazul, which bring us from city to city, one side of the country to the other

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