Small World questions, examines, and exposes our inner work ings. With its stark and skeptical vision, we explore what we are made of: meat, bones, in the image of, and with a great similarity to our fellow human beings. In its pages, irregular meter and verse converge (in free verse, prose, decasyllable, octosyllable, or hendecasyllable stanzas…) alongside registers of metaphors exploring the hidden aspects of the human con dition, the human being, and the Cuban. Auto referential, in tertextual, occasionally sarcastic, playful, uncomfortable, politi cally incorrect, and with a strong style choice and breakdown, it lacks subdivisions and titles (the first line of each poem works as such). Content and form coexist in circularity. In Small World, you doubt often, suffer the inescapable ardors of youth and time, and revisit them through identity, family, life, and death. The musicality of its verses leaves you with a sweet and sour taste in your mouth, leaving you with the de sire to reread, even though it hurts.
