I cannot paint a colorful enough picture of what the days of the book fair felt and looked like. One can see images of the famous fortress across the water from Havana. The stone walls, hundreds of cannons, dozens of acres … Now add to this image tens of thousands of people, day after day, all sorts of people, and book stalls and book readings throughout the interior of the fortress. And imagine the grass acreage filled with tents with still more books, exhibits, beverages and food, most of it for sale in the national currency, at rates all could afford. People of all colors and ages. Children and old people. All there for books. Books! To look at what books were there. To buy a book. To listen to people reading from their books. To sit on the grass or on the wall and discuss the books they were holding or wanted to buy. It was all about ideas and imagination. It was a space filled only with the inspiration, passion, adventures and mysteries of the written word. Day after day, with people numbering in the hundreds of thousands and then millions. That is the International Book Fair in Cuba.