Endless stretches of rundown streets; stone steps outside the old mansions with fading glories; random benches under the shade of leafy tropical trees; shadowy corners of drinking holes – these visual images are the only things that remain in my travel memories of Havana – all that with the presence of G and A. Bits of the numerous conversations we had in all these places pop up alongside the snapshot images after all these years. But I remember the things of G far better – this bad kid forever.
There are good ways of getting lost, and there are bad ones. If in a good way, getting lost is … More
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