Time, Place, Reality

This is where I was last year this time. It felt like a very different reality as to what I am in now. As I walk past the corridor from the kitchen to the living room, I see this. And each time I do, it takes me back to the market I got this. I clearly remember all the forms of energy I had observed back in Cuba.Women and men dancing, flirting, smiling, drinking, loving, laughing, hating, talking, working, having fun, having a cigar, begging, complaining, and observing and tasting the clues of 'the other' the tourists bring to their world. And I clearly remember feeling the pain you have when you can only form a question but not answer it. Can what we feel be called happiness if we do not have the freedom to choose? And maybe more importantly, is a false perception of having a choice a worse form of imprisonment?