Havana, Cuba → Sevilla · Alameda

Dec 9, 2022

1. Diary

   today was a dance day. rehearsal in the studio was electric. we worked on *una secuencia* with so much energy. plié, relevé, *plank*, then spin. felt the sweat drip down my back, mixed with the sound of *dembow* playing on my phone. *Dios mío*, the rhythm catches me every time.

   pablo popped in halfway through, guitar slung over his shoulder. he played a little something, and it was like everything clicked. the movements felt alive, fueled by his notes. his smile always makes me forget the grind, the *estrés* of living here, struggling with the contract renewal. can’t shake the thought that money is tight, though. *basta ya* — I push it aside.

   today’s the first day I felt the distance from home weigh less. *maybe* distance isn’t always a heavy thing. I called my mother afterward. her voice, always soothing, a balm. talked about her doctor’s visit, the diabetes situation. reminded me to eat more vegetables, *mira, lo que sea*. I laughed, told her I’m working on it.

   the river after rehearsal was beautiful. sunset glistening; the light hitting the water like a *coro*. sometimes I think about going back, but then I remember the impossibilities waiting for me there. I’m here, and for now, that’s enough. at least until tomorrow, when it all starts again.

Jan 10, 2023

1. Diary

   it started off cold this morning, *invierno* creeping in. i walked to the rehearsal studio, feeling the chill bite through my layers. it was one of those days when the sun barely pushes through the clouds. we were working on *lo que llevamos*, and honestly, the energy felt lowkey off.

   Pablo didn't show up until the last hour, and when he did, he had that *fusión* of guitar riffs that always ignites something inside me. *plie, relevé, spin*, but it was hard to connect. i could feel my body wanting to move, but my mind was elsewhere — worrying about money, the contract renewal, my mother’s health.

   i caught myself daydreaming in between sets. i miss the sounds of Havana. *la calle 23*, my sister’s laughter, even the chaos of the market. i recorded a voice note for my mom, but she hasn’t replied yet.

   after rehearsal, i met up with some folks from the WhatsApp group. we shared a plate of *tortilla*, but tbh, it didn’t hit right today. sometimes the food here just doesn’t salsa like back home.

   the river was dull, reflecting the gray sky, but it felt good to walk along it, to breathe. thoughts of home mixed with the weight of what’s next. *ay, que difícil* this life can be.

Jan 22, 2023

1. Diary

   the sun broke through this morning, finally warming the air. winter had been hanging on tight, but today felt alive. rehearsals were *intenso* — we tackled a new piece, lots of body language and rhythm. the floor was sticky with sweat, my arms moving like water.

   *plié, relevé, turn, twist.* the music struck a chord deep inside me, pulling me to the soul of cuba. during breaks, i caught up with a few of the guys; it’s funny how we bond over this dance. we joked around, mixed up slang, a real fusion of our worlds. *lowkey* felt nice, like family.

   after practice, i met up with pablo. he was late as usual, but when he showed, guitar slung over his shoulder, all was forgiven. we walked along the river, the sunset painting everything in golds and reds. i wanted to stay, to hold onto this moment. but the weight of money worries crept back in—rent’s due soon. my contract renewal looms.

   on the way home, i listened to one of my mom’s voice notes. she’s still worried about her health. *¡mami!*, i thought, wishing i could hug her. it’s hard, being so far away, feeling the distance like a heavy cloak. tonight, i’ll sleep thinking of her voice under the stars. a little warmth, a little hope.

Jan 24, 2023

1. Diary

   that feeling of lightness. rehearsals today took us to another level. warm sun pouring through the studio windows. we moved through the new piece — *sudor y alegría*. plié, relevé, *sweep*, then spin. i could feel every muscle working, every beat resonating. *que rico* to dance like that.

   pablo sent a voice note, strumming his guitar, and it mixed with our rhythms. *cuerpo, mente, alma* — it all connected. his laughter made me smile; i miss him *lowkey*. still on and off, trying to find our groove. the way he plays, it’s like the warm breeze of havana.

   i picked up some new afro hair products last weekend in madrid. need to keep my curls popping for the stage. can't let them dry out, *no hay tiempo*. thinking of my mom too, her health weighs on me. *ya no puedo más*, the worry is like a heavy weight.

   but today? today was all about *bailar*. felt the energy rise and fall, sweat dripping down my back. *vibrante*. as the sun set, the river glowed—i stood watching, lost in the reflections and shadows. everything feels like a balance, like dance.

Jan 25, 2023

1. Diary

   the cold is back, *joder*. woke up to a gray sky, everything feels heavy. skipped the long walk to the studio, took the bus instead. riders crammed like sardines, heat's stuck somewhere in the engine. rehearsals felt off today. trying to find the rhythm in the new piece, but my body was tight — no *flow*, just a lot of *frustración*.

   Pablo texted during our break, asked if I wanted to grab a drink later. lowkey, I want to, but the thought of the cold outside makes me want to hibernate. the studio felt like a lifeline today, but walking back, the chill wrapped around me, brought me back to Havana’s warmth. mama's voice in my ear, reminding me not to forget where I came from.

   now I’m home, staring at the river from my window, the current moves slow like my thoughts. I can’t shake this weight. need to shake it off tomorrow — *plie, relevé, suéltame* — the movements call. as the sun sets, maybe I’ll find a spark.

Jan 27, 2023

1. Diary

   gray morning again. the clouds are relentless. *joder*—another day of feeling the weight of the world. got to the studio and it was *frío* inside, like being wrapped in a damp blanket.

   rehearsals dragged. the energy was off; everyone felt it. we worked on a piece that usually lifts me, but today it was like moving through mud. *plie, pas de chat, releve*... each step required so much effort. *¿por qué no puedo simplemente sentir?*

   pablo texted, asking if we could meet this weekend. my heart did a little flip, but then the doubt kicked in. is it worth it? every time we get close, I pull away. he’s sweet, a good guitarist, but the money is tight and I’m still figuring out this dance life.

   after practice, I walked by the river. it looked *hermoso*, even in gray. the water moves on, never paused. I wish I could be like that. *cuando voy a volver a sentir?*

   maybe tomorrow will bring some warmth.

Feb 3, 2023

1. Diary

   the sun returned today, *gracias a orisha*. it felt like a gift. rehearsals were *lit*, moving through *sudor y alegría* with energy that filled the space like the heat outside. the studio windows wide open, *un aire fresco* flowing in. we were all laughing, just enjoying the music — Pablo’s guitar weaving in and out of our bodies. every *plié, relevé, plié* felt electric, like we could lift off the ground.

   afterward, I stopped by the river. the sunset painted everything in oranges and pinks, a canvas I missed. I pulled out my phone, listened to my mom’s voice note. her words like a warm embrace, caring and *sana*. she asked if I was eating well, if I was dancing enough. I told her *sí*, the rhythm in my heart beats louder here even when I’m away.

   I walked back home, feeling lighter, wrapping myself in the warmth of today. this city still surprises me. I was dreading the cold, but today was a reminder — there’s beauty in the contradictions. I can hold on to Havana and still find joy in Sevilla. *el calor es mi hogar, el baile es mi lenguaje*.

Feb 17, 2023

1. Diary

   gray again. woke up and it felt like the sky was just waiting to crush me under its weight. *joder*, i thought spring was coming? but no, it’s still freezing. missed my morning ritual of walking to the studio. instead, took the bus. packed like it always is, people squished together, the smell of sweat and cheap cologne mixing in the air.

   rehearsals felt *off*. the energy was missing; everyone moving like molasses. *plie, releve, plie* but nothing like the flow we had last week. tried to push through, to find that groove again, but my body felt heavy, weighted down by this endless gray.

   during a break, checked my phone. mom sent a voice note, her voice always cuts through. “mijo, eat something good! don’t forget about your health.” i laughed. she’s right but honestly, all i wanted was to sink into a plate of congris and yuca.

   pablo texted me later, “feeling you today, let’s jam tonight?” something to lift this gloomy fog. we’ll see if the stars align. maybe i’ll find a moment of warmth. the clouds are relentless, but that river, the sunset, keeps calling.

Feb 20, 2023

1. Diary

   gray again. the clouds are back, heavy and low, wrapping around me like a familiar but unwelcome embrace. woke up to another morning where the sun felt more like a fantasy. no voice notes from mamá today—would have loved to hear her laughter ring through the air, like a bell cutting through the fog.

   rehearsal was *frío*, just as i expected. the studio felt more like a freezer than a creative space. we did some *plie, releve, plie*, but it was hard to push through the chill. felt like i was dancing against the weight of the world. i caught myself daydreaming about Havana, the warmth clinging to my skin, the sound of the street music in the distance.

   Pablo texted me, saying he misses my energy. *Lowkey* it hit me hard. i think about him a lot, wonder if he’s strumming his guitar and thinking of me too. talked to the group, and they’re planning a get-together this weekend. i should go. need to shake off this funk.

   the river at sunset was beautiful last time, colors vibrant against the gray. guess i’ll have to remind myself that spring is just a thought away, even if today feels like winter's hold is tight.

   the clouds may press down, but the dance carries me through. *asi es la vida.*

Feb 21, 2023

1. Diary

   the clouds parted today, like a *revelación*, and for a moment, Sevilla felt alive again. rehearsal was electric, everyone feeding off the sun’s *calor* as we pulled through *plie, releve, plie*. the music flowed, Pablo’s guitar wrapped around my body like a caress. i could feel the rhythm in my bones, *sudor* mixing with *alegría*.

   afterwards, caught up with the WhatsApp group — lots of voices from home. they’re planning a fiesta; i can almost taste the *arroz congrí* and hear the music wafting through the streets of Havana. it’s bittersweet. i miss my mom's voice notes — *mijo, cuídate*, they echo in my mind like a warm embrace.

   the river was sparkling by sunset, a reminder of why i’m still here. but still... that pull of home, it lingers. i’m just a dancer caught between two worlds, feeling the weight of both.

   tonight, i’ll dream of Havana. the clouds can come back, but for now, i’ll breathe in this fleeting warmth.

Feb 23, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up today and the sun was blaring through the window, finally! *gracias a orisha* for the break in the clouds. the city felt lighter, like my body in rehearsals. *plie, releve, plie*, the warmth had me moving different, even the way i swayed while brushing my teeth felt like a dance.

   the studio was packed, everyone buzzing. we ran through the routine for the showcase coming up—*ojo, don’t forget the transitions!* the energy was contagious, and i could feel my feet almost floating. *los movimientos son todo*, you know?

   afterward, i caught up with Pablo at the café near Alameda. he was strumming his guitar, all casual-like, and the mix of his chords with the chatter around us, it was like magic. told him about the new choreography, and he smiled, *tú siempre en lo tuyo*. i love that he gets it, the fire.

   heading back home, i felt the river call me. the sunset over the water was a reminder of Havana; it flashed in me, bittersweet. *como siempre*, the pull.

Mar 2, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up today to that gray again. heavy clouds, like they don’t wanna let go. *maldita* weather. rehearsal was dull—*plie, plié, plié*—but the energy just didn't hit. everyone was off, missing the rhythm. even the mirrors felt heavier. tried to channel some *orishas* but they must be busy.

   came home and threw myself onto the floor, arms spread wide like I was trying to catch a breeze. my phone buzzed—a voice note from mamá. she's always asking about the weather, about my rehearsals. *déjala que me hable de la vida en Cuba*. she’s worried about her diabetes again, but I can hear the warmth in her voice. reminds me of home, like the smell of *frijoles negros* on a Sunday.

   Pablo texted, said he’s working on a new riff. lowkey excited, but it also brings a hollow feeling. his guitar is the only thing solid between us sometimes. *mi amor, qué complicado*.

   the river was calm today, just like me—still, waiting for the sun to do its *cosa*. hoping tomorrow shakes off this heaviness. end of the day and the sky is a bruised gray. I feel that pull of Havana deeper now.

Mar 15, 2023

1. Diary

   clouds heavy again but I didn’t let them weigh me down. woke up and decided to hit the river before rehearsal. *el río* was a mirror today, reflecting every shade of gray and that flicker of sunlight peeking through. *shimmering like a secret*. saw a couple of dancers warming up by the water, their bodies moving like *agua*, fluid. reminded me of home, the warmth of my mother’s voice, her words like a rhythm I can’t forget.

   rehearsal was a mixed bag. some *plie, releve, plie*, but also a lot of frustration. it’s like we’re fighting against something heavy, an invisible weight that keeps pulling us down. *maldita sea*. Pablo called during the break, lowkey sweet. made me laugh about his latest gig. he’s always *on fire* with that guitar. I miss his presence, the way he grounds me.

   by the end of the day, I felt the tension in my muscles, the sweat pooling, a reminder that life is a dance of its own. the city can be cruel sometimes, but there’s beauty too. might just need to find it a little deeper, like I do with every *paso*. the clouds may darken, but I’ll keep moving.

Mar 23, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up today and the sun was back, *gracias a orisha*. the light was golden, and my body felt like it wanted to leap out of bed. hit the studio early, before the rest of the dancers. *plie, releve, plie*—the floor was cold under my feet, but it made me feel alive, like the energy was breaking through those winter months.

   got a voice note from mamá this morning. she sounded worried about her diabetes—*maldita* sugar levels. I want to fly back, hold her tight, tell her it’s gonna be okay. but here in Sevilla, everything is about this audition next month. money is tight, the company contract renewal looming. rehearsals today were fire, tbh. we worked on this new piece, something fusion that makes my heart race. *baile, ritmo, pasión*—this is what I came for.

   saw Pablo later at the plaza, guitar in hand, looking all *fino*. we laughed, talked about the new song he’s writing. kissed him quick, but the moment was sweet. then it hit me—time here, between my world and Havana, pulls at my heart. the river sparkled at sunset, a reminder of what I left behind but also what I’m reaching for. *ah, Sevilla*.

May 5, 2023

1. Diary

   today was a mix. woke up to a sky that couldn’t decide. gray, then blue, then gray again. rehearsal in the studio—*plie, relevé, pas de bourrée*—but the energy felt scattered. the music didn’t hit right. tried to channel something, anything, but it was like dancing in a vacuum.

   afterward, i swung by the mercado for some fresh mangoes. that flavor, sweet and sticky, reminded me of summer days in havana. *maldita* nostalgia. picked up a bottle of coconut oil for my hair too, need to keep that moisture in this dry air.

   pablo sent a voice note later, his guitar strumming softly. he always knows how to pull me back in. the way he plays, it’s like he sees the world through a different lens. i miss that. we talked about next week, maybe we’ll share a jam session. i need that connection, that energy.

   ended the day by the river, *el río* smooth and shining under the weak sunset. the water, like my thoughts, flowed in uncertain directions. i’m here, but i feel that pull back home. it’s complicated.

May 6, 2023

1. Diary

   sunny morning in sevilla, finally. felt the warmth seep into my bones, and my body craved movement. hit the river before rehearsal—*el río* sparkled, reminding me of the sea back home. *sentí* that pull today, the familiar ache of longing.

   rehearsal was intense. we worked on this new piece, and it’s like each step had its own pulse. *plie, tendu, pirouette*. sweat dripped, mingling with laughter and the thumping of our feet against the floor. pablo was there, *como siempre*, with his guitar, adding an unexpected layer to our movements. the way he strums sometimes feels like it wraps around me.

   got a voice note from my mom later. she sounded tired but still managed to crack a joke about the heat in havana. made me smile, but that weight, her diabetes, still sits heavy in my chest. can't shake it. but today, at least, the sun felt like a reminder—*you are alive, you are here*.

   evening came with a cool breeze, a contrast to the day. i walked back from the studio, the sky painted in soft oranges and purples, the river whispering *stay awhile*. but i know i can’t linger too long. tomorrow’s another day to dance, to struggle, to be.

May 7, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up and it was like the world flipped a switch. *el sol* was shining through my window, slicing through the curtains. jumped out of bed, feeling *energía* bubbling up. only today, the studio was *loud*—everyone buzzing. *plie, pirouette, and lift*. we worked on the new choreography, but half the time I was just trying to keep up with the energy in the room.

   pablo swung by later, his guitar slung over his shoulder, all easy smiles. we laughed at some dumb meme and he serenaded me with a few chords. that man knows how to pull me out of my head. we made plans to hit the bar de tapas later, *tbh* I'm looking forward to some *patatas bravas* and a bit of sweet vermouth.

   the city felt alive today, maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the weekend. but toward the end of rehearsal, I caught a glimpse of the river again—suddenly all those *nostalgias* from back home hit hard. the water sparkled like it always does. wish I could take a dip like back in Havana, but here it's just a reminder of the distance.

   the evening breeze was warm when I stepped out, carrying the laughter of friends and strangers. I can still feel that energy now, wrapping around me like a cozy shawl.

May 9, 2023

1. Diary

   today was a rollercoaster, for real. woke up to a storm. rain slapping against the window like it was mad at me. *el río* felt heavy, murky, not the shimmering friend from yesterday. rehearsal was all over the place—*plié, pas de bourrée, twirl*—but the floor was slick. slipped once, caught myself. the vibe? chaotic.

   pablo sent me a voice note, him playing something fresh on the guitar, *como siempre*. made me smile, even with the clouds rolling in. our thing—complicated but sweet. he’s off tonight, playing in some bar. lowkey wish I could be there.

   then, a message from the cubano group. someone shared a meme about life here, made me laugh. *gracias a Dios* for humor. it grounds me, keeps the *cubanidad* alive.

   as the rain finally stopped, the air smelled of wet earth, sweet and dense. perfect for the *aguacate* toast I had after practice. *mangú* vibes creeping in. can’t shake that pull toward Havana. *no puedo* forget my mother’s voice, reminding me to eat. *la diabetes no espera*.

   wind picked up as I stepped outside. felt like a sign—*tierra* calling. I’m here, but part of me is always there.

May 13, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up today to a beautiful hum of the city. *el aire* felt thick with promise, a soft breeze teasing through my window. hit the studio early, the light pouring through the high glass, illuminating the floor like a stage. rehearsal was fire—*plie, releve, pirouette*—every movement a conversation with the shadows. the warmth in my muscles, that sweet burn.

   during breaks, caught up with the crew. *mira, che, did you see that new pop-up café?* everyone buzzed about the food—cuban sandwiches, fresh juice. lowkey missed my mom’s cooking, but hearing them talk made me feel *parte* of something here. later, a voice note from mami popped up, her laugh breaking the afternoon silence. “bebe, eat something!" I can hear her reminding me, always the caring voice.

   the day ended with a walk along the riverbank. *el río* glimmered under the fading sun, a reminder of home, yet so far away. I could almost hear the waves against the shore of *la Habana*, that gentle push and pull. *que jodido,* feeling the distance. but tonight, I’ll lay my head down with the sound of her love echoing in my heart.

May 27, 2023

1. Diary

   this morning was like stepping into a dance. *el sol* was bright, but there was a coolness in the air that felt good on my skin. had an early rehearsal — plie, releve, turn. the studio in alameda was buzzing, bodies moving with purpose. everyone was vibing, laughter mixing with the music. *el ritmo* was alive today.

   pablo texted me, something about meeting up later. his guitar always finds a way to my heart. lowkey, I’m missing him a bit more than usual. we’ve been in this back and forth, and I’m feeling it. still, it's nice to have that little spark in the back of my mind. *la energía* he brings — who could resist?

   after rehearsals, headed to the river. water was shimmering, reflecting the bright sky. I closed my eyes, just breathing, letting the moment wash over me. this city, sometimes it feels like a dream, other times it’s just a reminder of what I left behind. no way back to havana now, but I’m finding pieces of home here.

   the afternoon hit hard, heat rising. I grabbed a fresh coconut from a vendor, cracking it open. the sweet water hit different today, a little taste of sweetness I needed. the city felt heavy but beautiful. I’m here, and I’m dancing through it all.

Jul 27, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up to a heavy sky, *la lluvia* drumming on the window. the air thick, like it was holding its breath. rehearsals this week have been intense. *plie, pirouette, jete* — the routine’s starting to feel like home, but i’m lowkey exhausted.

   met with pablo later. we walked by the river, the water sulking under the clouds. he played a bit on his guitar; i wanted to lose myself in that sound. but then the conversation shifted. he mentioned going back to madrid for a gig. part of me wants him to fly high, but another part feels that pull, that dread. what if he doesn’t come back?

   after, i hit up the local grocery. grabbing some *mangú*, fingers crossed for my mom. sent her a voice note. she laughed, said it sounded good. i let her know about the company, about the contract renewal coming up. *la vida* is all hustle, but sometimes it feels too heavy.

   back in the studio tomorrow. the body remembers the moves, but the heart? still figuring it out. *el cielo* opened up, rain pouring down again as i returned home, washing away the day.

Aug 10, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up with a heavy heart, *mi gente*. the city was still damp from last night’s rain, the streets glistening under a shy sun. hit the studio just after noon — *el aire* felt alive, but my body was sluggish, like my spirit couldn’t keep up.

   today's rehearsal was rough. a lot of *plie, relevé, turn* — my mind kept wandering to the river at sunset, the colors bleeding together like a painting left out in the rain. thought about Pablo, strumming his guitar, that ease he carries, *joder* — I miss that.

   got a voice note from my mom later, her voice a sweet balm. she talked about her garden, how the *frijoles* are finally coming in. it's strange, the distance, but hearing her always pulls me back, like the weight of gravity on my skin.

   after rehearsal, met up with some dancers from the company. shared some pastelitos and a laugh. it felt good *tbh*, but there’s always that flicker of worry — money’s tight, and the contract renewal is looming.

   as the sun dipped, the sky caught fire. stood by the river for a moment, letting the weight of everything wash over me. this place holds so many contradictions, *la vida* moving in unpredictable ways.

Aug 31, 2023

1. Diary

   morning light spilled into my room like spilled paint. *el sol* was fierce today, no clouds to hide behind. the rehearsal studio was alive with energy — bodies moving, sweat dripping, *palmadas* echoing off the walls. *plie, releve, plie*, but also the rhythm of laughter, Pablo’s guitar sneaking in during breaks.

   afterward, went to grab a coffee at that little place near the river. a couple of my Cuban friends were there, talking about family back home, the usual mix of nostalgia and fierce love. my phone buzzed with a voice note from my mom. she sounded tired but hopeful. *mami*, siempre with the good vibes, even when life back in Havana is hard.

   I should really think about the contract renewal. money is tight. last month’s pay still feels like a ghost. but for now, I’m just here. dancing, living, feeling *la vida* pulse through me like music.

   as evening approached, the sun dipped, and the river caught fire. reminded me of home — that golden hour, *un momento* that chases away the darkness.

Sep 3, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up today to the sun slicing through my curtains. *el aire* was warm, a promise of another hot day. headed to the rehearsal studio in Alameda, *el ritmo* pulsing through my veins. we were working on this new piece, blending flamenco with urban moves — it felt electric.

   *plie, releve, *kick* — bodies twisting, laughing, the sound of sneakers on the wooden floor. i caught a glance of Pablo through the mirrored wall, strumming his guitar between breaks. he looks good, but there's always that tension, that unspoken thing lingering in the air. it's complicated, *mi amor*.

   after practice, met up with some of the guys from the diaspora group for a quick café. we shared stories, memories of Cuba, laughed about the idiocy of the immigration system here. *lowkey* reminded me of the home i can’t return to, the rhythm of life back in Havana.

   later, i bought some hair products at a tienda nearby. *afro pride*, always a challenge finding the right stuff here. the evening light was golden, bouncing off the river. sat there for a bit, just letting the moment wash over me. another day in this beautiful mess, but i'm carrying the weight of everything.

Sep 29, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up late, dreams tangled with my sheets. *mi madre* sent another voice note, her laughter and worry mixed — *la diabetes*, siempre. finally listened while sipping café con leche, the sweet tug of nostalgia.

   the studio was buzzing when I arrived, dancers stretching, chatting, the scent of sweat filling the air. we worked on *la coreografía* — plie, releve, plie. felt the rhythm pulse in my veins, bodies moving like a wave. *Pablo* was late, as usual. lowkey annoyed but I can’t stay mad; he brings a vibe that lifts everything up.

   after rehearsal, hit the riverbank to cool off. the sunset was beautiful, hues of orange and pink reflecting on the water. thought about home — Havana’s heat, my mother’s home-cooked meals. *si supieras*, I miss it. the water whispers something, a distant memory.

   back in my room, the evening feels heavy — the contract renewal looming over me. this city, sometimes brutal, sometimes sweet. but tonight, I’m just here, breathing, feeling the weight of it all.

Oct 12, 2023

1. Diary

   the studio today was electric. *la energía* buzzing all around. we worked on a new piece, layers of movement weaving together, *plie, releve, plie* — the rhythm like a heartbeat. *Pablo* dropped by, guitar in hand, strumming softly in the corner while we danced. i felt his gaze, *lowkey* grounding and distracting all at once. the sweat dripped down my back, mixing with the heat of *el sol* pouring through the windows.

   after rehearsal, we grabbed *tapas* at that spot near the river. the sun was setting, painting everything in gold and orange. *el río* whispered secrets as we sat, sharing laughs and a plate of *patatas bravas*. he reached for my hand, and for a moment, everything felt right. then the weight of *la vida* crept back in. *la familia*, my mother’s voice still echoing in my head, her worries like an anchor.

   i know i can’t go back. not yet. but sometimes, sitting there with Pablo, the taste of freedom mixed with a pinch of homesickness — *el dolor y la alegría* coexisting, just like me.

Oct 20, 2023

1. Diary

   the rehearsal studio felt like a furnace today. sweat dripping, bodies glistening under those harsh lights. we pushed through the new piece, each *paso* a declaration. *plie, sote, pirouette* — *el latido* of it all.

   Pablo showed up late; he brought me a bocadillo, which, honestly, was a bit of a distraction. his hands smelled like guitar strings, but the food was too good to ignore. the moment was fleeting though, because *la verdad* hit me again — money issues looming. *el contrato* renewal is coming up, and the whole company feels that weight.

   the other dancers were buzzing about a festival this weekend, costumes and music. my heart clenched a little — the thought of joining them, dancing under the stars. but then I remember the reality back home. *Cuba* feels like a dream, fading, always out of reach.

   after rehearsal, I walked down to the river. the sunset was stunning, colors bleeding like watercolor across the sky. for a moment, I let myself forget everything — just the water, *el aire*. but then *mi madre* popped into my mind, her voice notes echoing. I have to check in on her tomorrow. the pull of Havana… it’s harder some days.

Oct 30, 2023

1. Diary

   the sun was out, hot on my back as i walked to the studio. found myself thinking about the past week, those *conversaciones* in the WhatsApp group. *la gente* is always asking for news from home. the stories of *la Habana* feel like a ghost sometimes, hovering just out of reach.

   in rehearsal, we focused on the new piece again. it’s coming together, the movements start to feel like breathing. *plie, releve, pirouette* — each step a thread connecting me to this place but also pulling on the heartstrings. the way we move, our bodies speaking a language beyond words.

   i could hear pablo's guitar on the other side of the studio wall, his fingers dancing over the strings. thought about how he always knows when to bring me back to earth. once we got off from practice, we sat by the river. the sunset was pure magic, as the colors mixed like our lives. it’s easy to forget everything else in moments like that. yet there's always the shadow of *mi madre* in my mind, her voice notes ricocheting with love and worry.

   the weather shifted, clouds rolled in. felt like an ending, but also a promise. the dance continues.

Dec 9, 2023

1. Diary

   today was a mix of laughter and sweat. the studio was alive, bodies in motion, the air thick with *la música*. we dived into the new choreography, *plie, releve, plie*, feeling the floor pulse beneath us. i caught myself smiling mid-movement, lost in the rhythm. pablo stopped by after, guitar slung over his back, strumming softly while i stretched. *tbh*, it's moments like these that make the grind worth it.

   the river at sunset was stunning, all those colors blending like our dance. had an interesting chat with a couple of dancers about the pressures of the contract renewal. *la economía* always lurking. can’t help but think about my mom's voice notes, her worries. the heat today reminded me of Havana, the weight of family looming like that afternoon sun.

   got some new afro hair products from madrid, gonna try them later. need to keep this crown shining strong. just wish for a little more time, a little less worry. but for now, i’ll savor this rhythm, this space.

Dec 22, 2023

1. Diary

   studio day. already feeling the heat before even stepping inside. the usual crowd was there, *bailando* with a passion that was *todo*. *plie, releve, sote* — we lost ourselves.

   pablo showed up with his guitar, playing some chords that wrapped around our movements. I swear, his fingers dance like they belong to a *santo*. every note added something to the air, like an extra layer of heat over our sweat-slicked skin.

   between breaks, we talked about the *navidad*. just a few days left. I miss the feel of it back home — the way the streets buzz in Havana, the smell of *lechón* roasting, my mom's voice on a voice note reminding me to drink water. I can hear her, “no olvides, mi hijo”. but here, it’s different. the lights are bright, but it feels somehow empty. I keep checking my bank account, counting down to the end of the month.

   the rehearsal ended, but we lingered. *la música* still echoing in my bones. I glanced at the river as the sun began to set, colors melting into one another. a little piece of home, even if it’s just a memory.

   then came the cold wind, creeping in, reminding me it’s winter. I need some heat, man. this city can feel like an icebox — where’s the fire when you need it?

Dec 26, 2023

1. Diary

   the light today was soft, almost forgiving. walked to the studio, *calor* creeping in on me. inside, bodies were already moving, *todo el mundo* in their own rhythm. ***plie, fouetté, sote*** — the choreography stuck to my skin like *sudor*.

   Pablo video-called this morning, his guitar strumming in the background. he was trying to write a new song, asked for my opinion. *lowkey*, I was more focused on his smile, how the light hit him just right. my heart did a little dance. but then he mentioned visiting soon, and the knot tightened in my chest.

   food came up in the studio, naturally. *la gente* reminiscing about *la comida* from home — *arroz con pollo* and *frejoles negros*, the warmth of my mother’s kitchen. mentioned the *glorias*, and suddenly, we were lost in the flavors. sweat mingling with laughter, we planned a potluck for next week.

   as the sun dipped low, the river beckoned. left the studio, feeling alive, but that yearning for Havana trailed behind me. like the weight of my curls in the humidity, impossible to shed.

Jan 8, 2024

1. Diary

   the sun was bright when i stepped out today. felt like *el calor* was rising even before i got to the studio. rehearsals hit different — the energy was electric, bodies colliding, sweat flickering in the light. *plie, releve, pirouette* — the movements were sharp, each one carving out the space around us.

   i caught a glimpse of Pablo through the mirrors, fingers dancing over his guitar, weaving in and out of our choreography. *Dios mío*, it’s that look in his eyes when he plays — *todo cambia*. we shared a laugh during breaks, but tbh, it’s been hard to ignore the weight of money lurking around the corners. the contract renewal is creeping up, and i can’t shake off the thought of my mother’s voice notes from Havana, her worries about everything, especially her diabetes. it pulls at me, always.

   later, walking home along the river, the sunset wrapped around me like a warm embrace. a little reminder that i’m still here, even when everything feels impossible. maybe it’s just a moment, but those hues in the sky *hit different*. as the last light faded, i could almost hear the sounds of home, distant but clear, always right behind me.

Jan 23, 2024

1. Diary

   the sun was relentless today. *calor* wrapping around me like a heavy blanket as i walked to the studio. a couple of guys from the company were already warming up outside, tossing jokes, stretching. nothing like some friendly *coñazo* to lift the mood before rehearsals.

   inside, the floor felt slick with sweat. we dove straight into *plie, sote, fouette* — the energy surged, everyone lost in the rhythm, bodies moving like waves. i found my flow, *todo el mundo* syncing up, and for a moment, the weight of everything slipped away.

   then, in the middle of a turn, my mind flickered to my mom, her voice notes playing in my head like a soft echo. diabetes is hitting her hard — i wish i could be there, just to hold her hand. my heart tugs at the thought, but i shake it off.

   after rehearsal, met up with pablo. he played a new piece he’s working on — notes fluttering like we’re dancing together, reminding me why i’m here. we laughed, fought about dinner plans like we always do. *tbh*, the craving for something homey hit me hard.

   the evening cooled down as we walked by the river, the sky shifting into a tapestry of oranges and pinks. moments like this, i remember why i keep pushing through.

Jan 30, 2024

1. Diary

   the rain came in today, unexpected. droplets slipped from the sky like whispers, cooling the heat of the last week. i stepped out, feeling the wet air cling to my skin. *mira, un milagro* — a break from the *calor* that usually wraps around me.

   rehearsal was a mess. sliding on the floor, feet refusing to cooperate, but i let myself flow. *plie, releve, * and the sweat dripped down my back. the studio smelled of wet wood. i could hear the company laughing, mixing their voices like a sweet sauce. pablo's guitar echoing in my mind, making me lowkey miss him. it’s complicated — this dance.

   after, i caught a voice note from my mom. her voice crackling through the phone like old vinyl. she asked how the rehearsals were, if i was eating. i said yes, mostly. left out the sleepless nights worrying about money and contracts. hating this tightrope between dreams and reality.

   the river was golden as i walked past it after practice. reflections dancing, like i wish i could be. the rain on my face felt like a goodbye and a welcome all at once.

Feb 4, 2024

1. Diary

   the sun came back today, bright and brassy, shining down like it owned the world. *el calor* hit me hard as I stepped out, feeling it seep into my bones. walked to the studio, and the street was alive with people, laughter, and that sweet sound of guitar. pablo must have been playing somewhere nearby. rehearsals were fire — the choreography just clicked, movements flowing like the river at sunset. *plie, releve, plie* — my body remembered the rhythms, the sweat mixing with the sunlight, a dance of heat and heart.

   it’s funny how the energy shifts. some days, it’s like we’re all just trying to outshine each other, but today? today felt like a celebration. we were a unit, bodies colliding, voices rising. talked to one of the other dancers about a gig coming up. need to get that money right for the company contract renewal. *tbh*, I’m feeling the pressure. it’s like every step forward is two back.

   after rehearsal, caught a voice note from mami. her voice, a warm embrace from miles away, reminding me to take care of myself, keep the diabetes in check. it’s hard being so far. I miss the sabor of Havana, but here, the beat keeps pulling me in. *ya tú sabes*, I’m still figuring it out, piece by piece.

   the evening wrapped around me as I walked home, the chill creeping in. tomorrow, back to the studio, back to the grind.

Feb 6, 2024

1. Diary

   the sun broke through again, a blazing spotlight on the rehearsal studio. *calor* was back, thick in the air, like a tangible thing. walked in, drenched in sweat before we even started. *plie, releve, plie* — the movements flowed, but the heat made everything feel heavier.

   pablo joined us today, his guitar strumming softly in the background. *ay, ese sonido* made me feel lighter, like I could float and just dance. we laughed between takes, but it wasn’t all easy. the company contract renewal is looming, and it’s fucking with my head. tbh, I feel like I’m juggling fire.

   after practice, I found a quiet spot by the river, the light reflecting off the water, making everything glitter. I sent mami a voice note. her voice keeps me grounded, even from miles away. she worries about her diabetes, but it's my heart that races thinking of *la Habana* and what’s left behind.

   the heat faded slowly as the sun dipped, but it left a heaviness in the air. every day feels like a dance between the joy of moving and the weight of not being home.

Feb 17, 2024

1. Diary

   *hay un sol que no se aguanta* today. the kind that bakes the pavement and makes everything shimmer. walked to the rehearsal studio like it was a pilgrimage, sweat pooling under my arms, dripping down my back. *plie, releve, plie* in the studio, my body moving despite the heaviness in the air. felt like I could almost taste the heat.

   Pablo dropped by after his class, guitar slung over his shoulder. we shared a quick kiss — the sun still raging outside, but in here, it was just us, laughter punctuating the beats of the music. he played a few chords, trying out ideas. I lowkey love when he gets into that zone, lost in the sound. his fingers flying, and I'm just there, wanting to move with it.

   after rehearsal, hit up the mercado for some fresh mango. the vendor, an older guy with a big smile, said something about the fruit being especially sweet today. I swear, everything is sweeter under this sun.

   as I left, the sky started to shift. something about the light, I could feel it pressing down. the river at sunset is calling me, but today, it felt different. heavy.

   maybe tomorrow will be easier. *pero hoy, el calor* stays with me, clinging to my skin.

Mar 17, 2024

1. Diary

   *esto es lo que hay* — the sun is relentless. *calor* still sticks to me like a second skin. today, I danced until my legs burned, the floor slick beneath my feet. plie, releve, plie — the music thick in the air, a pulse I couldn’t resist.

   Pablo sent a voice note earlier, his guitar filling the silence of my studio. I closed my eyes, let his voice wash over me. *Te extraño, mi amor.* I feel it, lowkey. I miss him too.

   Made a quick stop at the market after rehearsal, grabbed some coconut water. Needed that sweetness after sweating out all my energy. It’s funny how something so simple can taste like home.

   The river shimmered at sunset, reflecting all the colors of the day. Sat on the bank for a moment, letting the sounds of the city fade away. Here, it’s easy to forget about the struggle.

   Tomorrow, back to it — the grind, the hustle, the dreams that still feel so far away. But for now, just me, the river, and the weight of what’s next.

Mar 24, 2024

1. Diary

   today was *una locura*. the sun blasted through the studio windows, like it was trying to cook us alive. sweat dripped from my brow, pooled at my feet, a little lake of effort. didn’t think i’d make it through the routine — but then, music kicked in. ugh, *la música* was electric. felt my body ignite, moving like water, like fire.

   *plie, battement, pirouette* — lost myself in the rhythm, in the heat. even managed a smirk at Pablo, his guitar echoing in the background, like he was summoning spirits. *mi amor*, always a distraction. but then reminders hit hard, the contract renewal looming. money, always.

   after rehearsal, walked to the river. sunset painted everything orange and pink, a brief escape. a few voices from the diaspora group pinged my phone, laughter mixed with homesickness. *ay, Havana*, I miss you.

   the sun—another day ending, but the heat? it stays.

Apr 7, 2024

1. Diary

   the sun today was like a relentless spotlight, burning everything in its path. i stepped out of the apartment, the heat wrapping around me, thick and heavy. *ay dios*, it was like walking through a sauna. made my way to the rehearsal studio, feet dragging but heart racing.

   the rehearsal itself was chaotic. we worked on the *fusión* piece. i felt every muscle strain, every fiber alive. plie, releve, *cadera*, the rhythm of the music pushing me. just as i hit the *pirouette*, *bam* — i lost my balance, spiraled out of control. laughter echoed, *mira a ese*, but it felt good, that lightness. we need to embrace the mistakes, right?

   afterwards, caught up with Pablo at that little cafe by the river. he strummed the guitar, fingers dancing across the strings like they were made for it. *suena tan bien*, i said, lost in the moment. we talked about everything and nothing. my phone buzzed — a message from mama, checking in on me, asking about my days. always worried about her health. reminded me of the warmth back home, but also the weight of distance.

   as the sun set, painting the sky in orange and pink, i felt the pull of both places — the warmth of Sevilla and the ache of Havana. *what a mess* my heart is in.

Jun 20, 2024

1. Diary

   the sun came out swinging today. *calor* hit me like a freight train as I left the apartment. stepped into the rehearsal studio, floor *mojado*, slick like my palms. danced through the heat — *plie, releve, plie*. everything felt electric. every movement laced with sweat; it’s a cocktail of struggle and joy.

   *Pablo* walked in late, guitar slung over his shoulder, looking all cool. “you ready for this?” he said, smirking. the tension sliced the air like the sharp strings of his guitar. *tbh*, I could’ve done without the distraction, but his vibe always draws me in. we synced, our rhythm colliding, creating something bigger.

   later, I checked the group chat for news from back home. *madre* sent another voice note, worrying about her diabetes. I replayed it, her voice wrapping around me like a soft blanket, grounding me in a world of uncertainty. I miss her.

   the rehearsal ended, but the sun was still ruthless outside. I walked to the river, watched the water catch fire with the sunset, a reminder of home, of *La Habana*. this city shines, but I’m still haunted by the shadows of my past. *que vida*, I think. still dancing, still dreaming.

Jun 29, 2024

1. Diary

   *la vida es un carnaval*

   today was intense. after the rehearsal, i could feel my muscles screaming but also that electric high, like i was floating. we worked on this new piece, *espinas de la flor*, and every movement felt like a conversation — *plie, releve, chassé*, the rhythm of our bodies melting together.

   met up with pablo after, a little cafe in the alameda. he was strumming that old guitar, fingers dancing across the strings like we do in the studio. the sun was setting, painting everything in gold, and for a moment, i forgot about the stress of money and the contract renewal looming over me. just felt us, and it was beautiful.

   listened to my mom's voice notes while i walked home. she was talking about her garden, her flowers blooming. feels like a lifetime since i’ve seen her. that pull from havana is heavy in my chest.

   the night air is warm, but there's a breeze, like it carries whispers from home. *ay, que difícil es esto*.

Jun 30, 2024

1. Diary

   the heat rose again today, thicker than molasses. stepped out, *calor* smothered me. the rehearsal studio was air-conditioned, but you could still feel the weight of the sun creeping in through the windows. *plie, releve, plie* — we worked the sequences until sweat dripped from our brows, pooling on the floor. the music was a thrill, a mix of flamenco and something deeper, raw. i could see pablo in the back, strumming his guitar, fingers dancing over the strings like they were alive.

   afterward, i hit up that new bodega across the street. found some *crema de coco* and a couple of fresh mangoes. gave me a little taste of home, the sweetness cutting through the heat. i grabbed a voice note from my mother on the way back, her laughter ringing in my ear, grounding me a bit. she asked about my money situation again, as she always does. *tbh* i’m worried too; this contract renewal is looming over me like a dark cloud.

   the evening cooled down, the river shimmered under the fading light. *la vida es un carnaval* was still echoing in my head. a moment of relief before the next round of heat hits tomorrow.

Jul 27, 2024

1. Diary

   today was a *sopa criolla* in terms of heat. woke up to a voice note from mamá, her words wrapped in love and worry, reminding me to eat. *ay, mi madre*. met up with the crew at the studio, and the moment i stepped inside, it was like walking into a cool embrace, but that didn't last long. we were working on this *nuevo* piece, *el alma del flamenco*, and the energy was fierce.

   i lost myself in the rhythms, *plie, releve, plie*, sweat cascading down my back, mixing with the air thick enough to taste. during breaks, i caught Pablo's eyes. he was jamming with a couple of the dancers. his guitar was sharp, slicing through the heat. got a little lost in our banter, lowkey joking about how my salsa could never compete with his flamenco.

   the evening came on quick. i found myself by the river, watching the sunset drip golden over the water. *que belleza*. it felt like a moment stolen from time. but the weight of the future loomed like the clouds gathering above. contract renewal is creeping closer, and i’m lowkey stressed about it. dance is freedom but also a heavy ask.

   as the sun dipped, the river reflected a million shades of orange, and for a moment, i was just me. no demands. just the dance in my bones and the pulse of Sevilla surrounding me.

Aug 5, 2024

1. Diary

   today was a whirlwind. woke up late after a long night of dreaming — a mix of Havana’s streets and Sevilla’s sun. rolled out of bed, feeling the weight in my bones from yesterday’s rehearsal. we tried to push through a new sequence — *plie, releve, plie* — and it was beautiful but brutal.

   met up with the crew for lunch at that little spot by Alameda. i ordered *tortilla española*, and it was a moment. something about that first bite hit different. maybe it was the sun streaming in, or the laughter of my friends mixing with the sizzling sounds from the kitchen.

   pablo texted while i was eating, a quick *hey, wanna jam later?*. always a sweet lowkey connection, even when things feel messy between us.

   the evening walk to the river was golden, everything drenched in that *golden hour* glow. watched some kids splashing in the water, laughing. reminded me of *la Habana*, the afternoons spent near the malecón.

   as the heat settled in again, thick and sticky, i felt this longing. a balance of joy and weight; sometimes it’s hard to breathe. but the movement — that's where i find my peace. *sweat, music, bodies in sync*. for now, that's enough.

Oct 8, 2024

1. Diary

   the heat today felt like a heavy quilt pressed against my skin. *calor* thick and suffocating. woke up just before noon, the sunlight slicing through the curtains, reminding me of all the things i should be doing. mamá's voice still echoing in my head, *come on, eat something*, as if she could see me through the ocean.

   rehearsal was a mess — too many bodies, too much sweat. we danced like we were trapped in molasses, *plie, releve, plie*. i could feel my muscles screaming, but it felt good, like releasing all that pent-up energy. after, i met up with the crew; we laughed, the sound of our voices mixing with the clinking of bottles from the bar nearby.

   thought about Pablo *lowkey*. his guitar still haunts me. the way he plays? it gets under my skin. i miss those moments of him strumming in the small hours, the world outside fading. but then there's the other side — my contract renewal looming. money, always in the back of my mind.

   the river looked beautiful at sunset, reflecting the fading light. makes me think of home, of the wide streets of Havana, the laughter, the chaos. *ay, mi Habana*. but Sevilla holds me too, like a lover's embrace. just wish i could find a balance, you know?

   the night fell heavy with promises. tomorrow, the dance, the sweat, the weight of it all. *pero aquí estoy*.

Oct 23, 2024

1. Diary

   woke up to the sound of a guitar. it was pablo, strumming softly in the kitchen. *mi amor*, always bringing that warmth. the sunlight was already too much, making my head spin a bit. had a quick breakfast — café con leche, some leftover *arroz con pollo*. felt the *calor* creeping in, but not as brutal as last week.

   rehearsal was intense. we worked on that new piece, lots of *plié, relevé, fouetté*. sweat dripping, bodies moving in sync. it felt like a dance of memories. my mind slipped back to my mother’s voice — she worries about everything, especially her sugar levels. sent her a voice note, just a little something to remind her I'm alive and kicking here.

   after practice, walked by the river. the sun was setting, casting a golden glow. thought about how different it all is. the river feels like a lifeline, but also a reminder of what I left behind. connected with the WhatsApp group, some laughter, shared *sopa criolla* recipes.

   pablo texted later, asking if I wanted to catch a concert this weekend. *lowkey* excited. need to find a way to balance the joy and the yearning. the weather’s turning, a cool breeze whispers promises of change.