Pieces of Me, Pieces of Havana (memories of Christmas Eve)

what woke me up at the same time every time in those years was not the sound of the mass being conducted in the flat downstairs to the left no it was not the violin and batá drums-led musical dedication by my elderly neighbour to his recently-departed wife it was as if the world of afrocuban music and the classical one came together for just one night and oshún was more than honey queen