This young boy seemed fascinated by my approach to photography. He could see that I was not photographing the kids who were pointing, waving, and laughing at me. He watched me intently as I searched for an alternative subject, using the door between us a partial shield. He was obviously shy, and he made a perfect subject for my purposes. He represents many of the children in this school were not yet sure about their own identity, and who remained cautious about their relationships with others. There is honesty to him that that is disarming. I also wanted to express how vulnerable he seems – unlike most of his classmates, he would not dare to walk out into the hallway to face my camera.

Wearing a blue bandana, this very young student is trying to figure out why I am making her picture. Eyes wide, she stares hard at the camera, and holds a finger to her lips. She seems both shy and vulnerable.

I saw very few of images of Cuba’s retired legendary leader Fidel Castro while in Cuba. He is said to keep a low profile these days. Yet Castro remains a prominent presence in the principal’s office of this elementary school. I met the principal himself in a hallway, and followed him as he walked the halls. Eventually he led me back to his office, where he seated himself at a cluttered desk, before a large portrait of Fidel Castro himself. As I was photographing the principal, a staff member came over and embraced him from behind. The image is all about authority on one hand, and human values on the other. Castro had been more or less in charge of Cuba for 50 years, while the principal is in charge of all who work and study at this school. The friendly embrace tells us how the school’s staff regards their leader.

By far the most startling work of contemporary art in all of Cuba is Fuster’s fanciful ceramic tile mosaic rendering of a symbolic “rural city” on the far west side of Havana. Inspired by the work of Picasso and Gaudi, Fuster launched the project in 1994, an effort that eventually involved virtually the entire neighborhood. Under Fuster’s direction, neighbors even transformed the walls of their own homes into ceramic fantasies. Fuster’s son, Alex, showed us through this surrealistic masterpiece. I built this image around the thrusting hands and arms that bring order out of chaos.

I’ve taken the liberty of titling this image with the name of Eugene O’Neill’s 1939 play. It is appropriate that I do so, because this image of an iceman escorting his frigid load through the streets of Havana features a timeless task that has been around at least as long as O’Neill’s play. Given Havana’s decaying vintage infrastructure, refrigeration is not a given. Blocks of ice must still be delivered on the backs of men such as these. I made this image from a moving taxicab, shooting through its front window into the back of the truck just in front of us. The iceman’s stern expression seems as chilly as the glistening pillars of ice surrounding him.

The coming of another day to a cemetery speaks of the inexorable passage of time itself. Using my spot meter, I carefully exposed for the brightest light, making most of these tombs fall into the shadows. The sun strikes the top of an ornate mausoleum, and grazes a huge monument to Havana's firemen.