When I was in Cuba I started to photograph the food that people would prepare and present to me. The family was divided. In this case the father, Felipe, had been sent to America as part of Castro's effort to purge the country of all defectors.

As a result the family had not seen Felipe, now re-married in LA, for many years.

I had met Felipe in LA before spending time with his family, and would return to him in LA after my time with them. They cooked for me as if they were cooking for him.

It's one of the gifts of being a photographer, to spend time in the lives of others and experience the generosity and kindness of strangers.

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