In 2015 I found a raft with my father. We were coming back home from a fishing trip when we noticed something blue wedged in the mangroves of Cudjoe Bay. My father brought us as close as our boat could get, but as it got too shallow to go any further, I got out and waded to it. We knew what it was by now- a raft, often called a ‘chug,’ used by Cuban’s to escape the island. It was empty of people, but not of life. It was blue, thick with steel and instant foam. In the back sat an immense rusted engine from an old Soviet-born car. On the floor of the raft were sugar packets, containers of vinegar, and a little girl’s sweater. We towed the raft to our home, and I began to think about how to tell the story of Esta Niña Linda.