This is not a work of fiction.
But the author would like it to be.
We improve when we become fiction,
each and every one of us,
and when the past becomes a novel our memories are sharpened.

Memory is the most potent truth.
Show me history untouched by memories
and you show me lies.
Show me lies not based on memories
and you show me the worst lies of all.

If all the characters in this book are fictional, none of them knows it yet.

All resemblances to actual persons
were preordained before the creation of the world.
It matters little that the names don�t always match.

All the incidents and dialogue come straight from God�s imagination.
As does the author himself.
And the reader.

Still, all of us are responsible for our own actions.
Not even Fidel is exempt from all this.
Nor Che, nor his chauffeurs, nor his mansion.
Nor the many Cubans who soiled their pants
before they were shot to death.
Nor the fourteen thousand children who flew away from their parents.
Nor the love and desperation that caused them to fly.