Transfer

Meet Gabriel, like the archangel in the first book ever written as a true collection of the experience of being, just being and being okay with how that being state makes you feel.

Of course I would find this Sudanese fellow (thanks to Jwaye, a word I learned in Haiti), the way the open door takes me when I just ride towards it, not planned, for I do not con troll it, I am merely making my way through it.  Keeping up is not difficult, choosing not to is.  I want you to meet a shaman as well, that way feelings will be embraced, not shunned. 

When Gabriel was six years old in 1986, he was recruited by the army in the south.  Three years later, whence he was nine (three years younger than Mein Schatz), he was shot in the left hand by the enemy.  When I asked him who the enemy was that shot him, he responded, "The north, of course."  Gabriel's AK-47, or better yet 7.62mm wound through the hand gave him transfer to London where he was healed.  Then he found his way  back to The Dark Continent to continue the fight that had killed his father before he wound up in the USA via Havana, Cuba.  There is so much more, however the 5th dimension diminishes all of us, no matter how cool or winner we think we are.  This one may take time, but I will bring you the story of a lost child of the Sudan in the near future.  First, Gabriel and I are going to share some Injera and Awaze on the morrow, then I will get back to you, my lovely audience.