I am writing to you from a park bench in Amsterdam there is a gentle breeze of rest-fullness the cherry trees are in full bloom I look for you in every pretty face I look for you in the mannerisms of strangers I look for you in the architecture of amazement I think of you between the sidewalk and every step I hold you in my mind like a memory of something precious I almost found you as the sun set the sky on fire in Barcelona but you know almost is never sweet I will find you before I unveil this madness of my wandering I miss you even when I sleep … Clay.M