This is quite a moment for me. Recent revelations of my next short story has got my head spinning. A sudden rush of ideas potent and strong. I am on a high of possibilities, a writing euphoria. Who knew writing could be so liberating? Just a spill of black ink and I am gone, floating between centuries and languages and culture clashes. Its the same feeling I got when I sat down to meet Stella and she spoke for the first time. My heart races to the images still all jumbled and exciting and pacing footsteps in my head. Historical figures are brushing passed me on the street and staring me down back alley ways. Caught a glimpse of Satchmos face and a hanging tree all in the same wind. Almost chocked on Billy’s voice and the horn screaming at me from across the tracks where the jazz club is housing The New Negro Movement. I better catch the next train back to 2016. I am dangerous with this pen.