The Third Hotel by Laura van den Berg5/30/2023 ![]() ![]() The hotel was a landmark, positioned on a knoll, the spires visible from even a great distance. An oval driveway, ringed with royal palms, led visitors to the entrance in the back, a grand terrace presided over the sea. The official festival hotel stood tall in Vedado. She had come to do the things her husband had planned on doing himself but was in no position to do any longer. She had come to meet the director of the first horror film ever to be made in Cuba. She had come to Havana for the annual Festival of New Latin American Cinema. I am experiencing a dislocation of reality. They would make remarks about coincidences, about the world being a very small place, and when the inevitable question came-What was she doing in Havana?-she would have no idea how to explain herself. She would see this person taking photos in the Plaza de la Catedral or on the Paseo del Prado. She imagined bumping into someone she had known in upstate New York, in her former life. A simple question and yet she could not find a simple answer. ![]()
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