A photo story from the soul of Old Havana
A sunlit breeze carried us through the cobbled streets of Old Havana, where the city breathes in colors and whispers in shadows.
We paused by a quiet bookstore, the kind that seems to hold centuries behind its dusty glass. And there, between reflections and forgotten pages, she found herself.
She stood before the window, back to me, drawn not by the camera, but by the stories behind the glass. The books called to her in silence. Her image, framed by the old wood and sun-kissed pages, became part of the library’s memory — as if the stories inside had always waited for her to look in.
What I captured wasn't just her figure, but the moment the world stood still: when beauty met wonder, and Havana offered us a secret in the language of reflections.
