Monday, August 13


I don't care anymore that I missed Can A Sista Rock A Mic, Bilal, Lauryn, Zap Mama and Angelique Kidjo.
Every second I was away was a moment of clarity and time to daydream and breathe... and I was breathing fresh air.
It didn't help that right before I'd left, I'd finish Barack Obama's first book and that my conversations with K were the only thing on my mind. I expected I would under-appreciate the countries I'd be visiting because they were lands that had little to offer concerning my history, other than a reminder of "conquest".
My assumptions were wrong. The Swiss Alps and an old city of romance and canals are way to beautiful to describe. You just gotta see it for yourself. And thank the universe that I did see more than conquest in these places. I saw my family, full of success and good humor and hope, walking proudly, each and every shade of brown imaginable, up the mountains and over the ponticelli. And my dad finally recalled his own lineage. His mother's people were Galibi, natives to the hills of Grenada. And his father's people came from Sierre Leone. I may not be able to name a tribe yet, but I no longer have to look at a map of the continent and wonder. We come from lands of spices, diamonds and jungles.

Some spots were just so unexpectedly lovely:

and some were more amazing than I could imagine:

The digital camera was a smart move.

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