The soul is the home of my innocent child yet fully formed alive with wonder , everything is magical, the morning, the day , the night. That first train ride, the first taste of ice cream, everything shining in its newness. One night , thirty one years ago, I was resting on my bed, not asleep just taking it easy, it was the beginning of my weekend, a few drinks, a few laughs with friends under a Saturday October sky. My hand draped over the bed, a hand took mine, gentle, soft and sweet as a child, it wanted to take me somewhere. I opened my eyes to nothing but white empty walls . And just at that moment I felt a bump in my chest as if someone was saying hello.