Obama said my name.
That's my baby photo. Thats Cuba. WTF.
I sent that anecdote off in an email about a week ago to the Ambassador. Had no idea it would happen...
OBAMA SAID MY NAME
I'm kind of freaking out. Here's an interview I did with RadioBoston about this remarkable, unexpected, monumental moment.
With violence on campus rising to epidemic proportions, Em will have none of it. But when her best friend Cassie gets assaulted, Em makes some unexpected discoveries. Sometimes you do the wrong thing for the right reason.
I am so excited about Yerma — I am working on a translation of the beautiful play by Federico Garcia Lorca. This is commissioned by ACT in San Francisco — and we have a reading coming up July 25 at 2 PM at the Huntington Theatre Company in Boston.
I hope to see you there!
I miss the language—the words, The speed of the conversation. I miss Cubans asking me where I’m from, and knowing that—maybe I can’t pass, but at least I don’t scream American. I miss the heavy weight of the air.
Havana is really dirty. It’s a hot mess. The streets are trashed. There are huge holes in the street. There are skinny dogs everywhere, and crumbling ruins of buildings where laundry hangs on the third floor balcony...But it’s also gloriously terrible.