Australian Left Review


Will Silk


For the first and only time during our stay in Cuba, we are subject to strict security no cameras, no bags. The factory is a prime target for CIA saboteurs. In the foreground a welcoming committee from the complex is clustering lightly. Perhaps 200 people: women favouring bright bandanas to cover rollers in their hair, some of the men a fleeting cord or denim peaked caps, all save lot a sprinkling in white lab coats — wearing Tshirts and jeans. Behind them, standing the law of perspective on its head, shrinking the group to a tiny vari-coloured mass, isa huge, functionalist topography of flat, bland surfaces and blind factory walls. The textile complex cuts a great raw swathe across a Santiago hillside through the detritus of an urban slum.



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