Welcome Home

This isn't the first time I've written these words.  This is not the first blog to be posted, or the first responses to the writings on my soul.  But this is a tribute to Mr. Nelson, who first held my hand as I took my first tentative steps down the streets of Paris, hoping to find, somewhere in this city, my true passion and inspiration.  I don't know.  Perhaps I just have a warped sense of reality; my mind is the real world and this stuff that I can physically touch is the dream, and one day I'm going to go to sleep and wake up to reality for eternity.  That seems like it would be nice.