The New Yorker:

In the past few years, as many as two million people have escaped the island’s repressive regime and collapsing economy. Those who’ve made it to the U.S. face a new reckoning.

By Jon Lee Anderson

For seven years, while the Torre K23 hotel was under construction in Havana, the locals complained furiously. They said that the building—the “tower of arrogance,” as some called it—would spoil the neighborhood, a leafy district near the city’s seaside promenade. Besides, they pointed out, there was a perfectly good hotel down the hill: the Habana Libre, a former Hilton that Fidel Castro had made his home base after the Revolution. But Cuba, in the midst of a long-running economic crisis, was desperate to attract foreign currency. And the new hotel was erected by an unassailable entity: the commercial arm of the Revolutionary Armed Forces, known as gaesa, which controls the nation’s construction, tourism, finance, and import-export industries.

The Torre K23, which opened in February, is now the tallest building on the island: a forty-two-story, blank-faced rectangle of glass and steel, with some five hundred rooms that almost no Cuban can afford. Near the penthouse level, a balcony stretches across the building, offering a swimming pool and a vertiginous view of the city. But there are few guests poolside. The Torre K23 is largely abandoned, as is the rest of Cuba.

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