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.