Late November leaves patina like Kellogg's corn flakes and peaches. Early mornings in Germany were Müeslix und laugenbrötchen; cobblestones and cold. Days off we spun our wheels by a candy store in the centre of the town and ate sour strawberry spaghetti strands until our tongues went numb. Rush hour in Spain was wild. The sun was coming up. Blurs of brown, rojo and amarillo. People like pages finely bound in full morocco-gilt. Spanish boots of Spanish leather and streetlights. My head against the safety glass I remember for the first time focusing on the driving staccato bass line of Cracker’s “Teen Angst”. Most everyone else was asleep.