Havana. One word. All your senses. Sight of colours everywhere. The clothing, the cars, the blue of the Atlantic, the green of the palms shading the white sandy beaches. And most of all, the art. The art in Cuba is part of the streets. It is the story of the people. I don't have money. I would like to buy the Johnny Depp as Tonto portrait. Smell of history. Of pride, of hardship, of an unbridled joy wherever I go. It entices, teases and makes me want to be part of it. Who are these people, who live with so little, yet take so much from life? Taste. Of the most perfect mojitos in the world. Of lobsters, chicken. of saltwater on my skin. Touch of the sun as I lie wet and content on the hot sand. The warm water splashing over my feet. Sound of music is everywhere. In the street, in the cafes, in the restaurants. And we are all dancing. Together. Everyone in the square. Everyone everywhere in Havana. There's not enough food. But the Cubans give you the food from their own plate. There's not enough internet. Thank goodness. There is so much laughter, movement, children playing, everyone dancing. I don't want to leave.