I have an endless list of travel memories lodged in my mind.

– Getting stitches in a dodgy hospital in Agadir at night.
– Sleeping on the roof of a camper van/meth lab outside Groningen in The Netherlands.
– Squatting an abandoned beach bar in Peniche, Portugal.
– Being introduced to Pessoa by a book trader in Lisbon wearing straw hat and vest (major impact).
– Being trampled by a dear in the woods at 2 am in a sleeping bag.
– Getting almost fatally lost in the Gothic Quarter in Barcelona.
– Teaching a Portuguese toddler to speak by reading to her in a language I don’t understand.

These and many more.
I started writing them down, and one by one, they are adding to a road novel in bits and pieces. A mix of diary, questionable memories and tall tales.