THE HUMAN PULSE:

Global Photography of John Elliott

Holguín

Holguín

The next morning, Franky, the son of the owner of the Havana lodgings offered to take me in his taxi to the bus station.  My departure was delayed some minutes when I looked at my left arm and saw a bloody gash from one of my backpack straps, but I applied antibiotic...
Sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀs

Sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀs

I often have the feeling in Cuba that the people here are ever enduring a lengthy war.  They are the most resourceful people I have ever come across.  It’s not just the renown ancient cars that are lovingly maintained and pressed into service for improbable years, but...
Oɴ Pʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ

Oɴ Pʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ

People sometimes look at photographers as thieves.  We sneak up on the unsuspected and, sometimes without permission, do something that requires the verb “to take”.  When we take a photo, we seem to steal a moment, a parsec which may or may not be an accurate...
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