This series of images was captured by me using an old Canon 400D and a modest 75-300 mm lens. Although the photographs are not recent, the reality they document is still alive in the streets of Havana. The scenes I am showing are not isolated anecdotes; they are honest portraits of elderly people, the sick, and lives marked by daily struggle.
Through these frames, black and white takes on a special power. It strips away distractions and forces the viewer to face the essence of what is happening: faces etched by time, bodies carrying more than just age, gazes that speak of years of waiting and resilience. The absence of color is not a limitation; it is a language. One that highlights textures, emotions, and contrasts; one that reveals with starkness and dignity a poverty many prefer not to see.
In the streets of Havana, life barely holds on. Elderly people push carts, sick individuals wander in search of sustenance, and human fragility is evident on every corner. It is not just material scarcity; it is the weight of years lived in uncertainty, in a country that promises change but never fully delivers.
With these photographs, I am not seeking empty compassion or cheap romanticism. I aim to show the truth with respect and forcefulness. Havana is a city that enchants, but it also wounds. The camera, in black and white, becomes an honest mirror that reflects both the beauty and the pain of a people who endure.
Since the beginning of my journey as a photographer, I have always tried to show things as I see them: with honesty, from my own perspective, and with the emotional weight of what pains me to witness. Every image I capture is, at its core, a way of saying that I am not indifferent to the reality that surrounds me.
These are old images that I recently found in my archives, taken back in 2018, when I was just starting out in photography. I apologize for the low technical quality; however, I trust that the message and the emotion they convey outweigh any limitations of equipment or experience.
