Yadiel Fernández

Yadiel Fernández spends long, sun-drenched days at the edge of life beside tobacco barns in rural Cuba, directing the incessant traffic of pickup trucks. The small certainties of his routine mask an insistent need for personal identification and ownership, leading him to scribble his name on every plate, conscious of his place in the order of things. By night, he lies on his narrow bed, mind drifting to textured silences and the looming promise of the next tobacco season, reflecting on how to break free from the barrens around him.