Monday, August 12: I came to Africa in July, 2005 for one week and never came home. Home, actually, is now just larger.

I came to Africa to see what I could see and wound up seeing myself and every other sentient being broadly.

We are forever. So we might as well work as would an immortal, with nothing to lose but our fears and intolerance borne of self-doubt. The self one doubts is a substitute anyway.

We dare to do this thing, to raise a rhythm that’s never been. But if I recall correctly when last over the Sahara, two weeks back, we are talking about music man, unapologetic, not asking for permission.

So how does one wrap-up a journey that ultimately has no end or at least a journey not concluded until the destination is created, not merely reached?

The answer, of course, is you don’t.