I walk the grounds of El Morro, a historical fortress overlooking Havana’s harbor, waters crash against the colossal stones below. The history of a place like this is tangible, it offers a welcomed sense of my own insignificance. These structures have stood for many lifetimes. Through wholly different worlds, through triumphs and struggles, they have stood, defending. Moving throughout the cannons I begin to hear a noise, hidden within the ocean winds and distant salsa music, I hear the echoing blasts of centuries past, of Cuba’s great defenders.