I went out right after breakfast. The little sandwich shop that faces the alley parallel to Washington Avenue was filling up. There's nothing suburban about South Beach. Short sleeves and no sleeves; tattoos on display. Mango smoothies on the menu. The smell of Cuban coffee. 
Demonstrating workers outside a pub on Washington Avenue. I asked whether I could take a photograph. No problem. They had been marching smartly; when I raised my camera, they straightened up even more. I'm sticking with the union.
