I don’t know how I got here. Its 11:27am (so 6:28am back home) and I’m waking up in London. On the way here I was on the plane bugging out. I felt at some point this would all be over. Like somebody would come up to me and say “Alright man the jig is up, go back to Stoughton”. That never happened. Here I am in this dope flat (that’s what they call apartments out here) in what is one of the most vibrant and fun districts in all of London.

People back home have been asking me how is London and all the basic travel questions and I usually respond with “Yea London’s dope blah blah blah” you know, the regular stuff. The truth is, I still feel like I’m dreaming. I had a conversation with my Mom before I left and she told me she wanted me to go to Europe because as a kid, in Haiti, she wouldn’t even dream of going to Europe. She wouldn’t even entertain the thought because it would just be ridiculous. Now, one generation later, here I am.

I’d say the only perceived downside, and this is an upside as well, is when thousands of miles away from the place you grew up, you realize how much you love the people back there. Every single dope thing I see, eat or whatever I think “Man, wait till I tell Eddie, Mom, Evandro, Vijay, Renato or whoever about this”. Love is the most powerful thing in the world. Far more powerful than money simply based on the fact love is universal. Love knows no language and is bound by no distance.

So, all the way from Londontown, I’m saying love to everybody back home. I’m going to hold it down out here and live every moment to the fullest. Well, at least until this dream is over and I have to wake up.

Peace&Love,

Baudelaire