CAMAGÜEY.- The backpack has been for five years a regular clothing, never have any empty space, since among clothing and makeup I always leak a little here and a little there. When I come from Las Tunas, I bring some patience, of "cantao oriental", painted in a naive romanticism, of nobility, of pride for a city that is always displayed flirtatious to its inhabitants.

And when I returned, the tinajón inside me gives me away. Here I have touched the roots of the art in every street; each stone has a story to tell and a less in our walk is a century of history lost. Those who know how to appreciate that beauty have heard the symphony that is created with the mixture of the rumba, the architecture, the cobblestones and the people.

Sin of curious may not be so bad, everything I want to look at. The perfect symbiosis between what is new and what is old captivates me, the creativity that assaults the most common walls to turn them into works of art, and as churches with its beauty persuade atheists to believe.

Nobody like the Camagüey´s sons can better defend their land; sometimes we discussed by this face of rogues that show when they say that "as Camagüey there is no another city". At that time the charms of the native land of each come out from under the sleeve to win the dispute.

What is certain is that in five years, we have learned to love our earth as much as the Camagüey´s citizens, that is the greatest virtue of its people; in the end this city does not need the water of the tinajones to fall in love, because it alone becomes a lover of all who discover it.

Translated by Linet Acuña Quilez