i was in jamaica, building houses, singing bob marley, "we were headed to the coast, we were headed towards the stars," loving with an open heart, seeing god in the wind, running around in the green grass, listening to rain, walking up hills, playing with the kids at the orphanages, holding hands, meeting amazing, amazing people that i still keep in touch with to this day/

such as; whitney was here last week, meg calls me every birthday. she's in argentina now and wants me to visit, drink cafes con leches and walk the streets. i would, in a heartbeat. patrick and i would talk about everything, even then, especially then,. he got me out of bed one night, my feet in the wet grass. he told me i was his savior and he wore chucks and played guitar and was in college and this mattered to me intensely, poetically. he was a lightning bolt but thought he was merely thunder; the afterthought. we have long lost touch, i can't remember his last name, but everything meant a lot.

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