I found myself in Paris. Soloing, with it all; brains, style, and a fresh Spirit. A daydreaming, soft one- roaming with the romance I had for art and hash. Monet’s waterlilies and Japanese irises in ponds surrounded the museum rooms in immense sizes and resplendent colors. His “water garden” was a personal fanstasy passionatley represented for me. Delicate reflections on fluid environments, swept me away from myself. The dreads of weeping willows fell like emerald waterfalls. The days quietly falling on the water, in meditation. I leaped from lilipad to lilipad, whispering in each flower’s ears. I kissed the walls. I walked around each panel in a daze of nature’s subtle glory. The watercolors washed my eyes. My mind ablaze, I kept walking around and around. After a while, already there in gay Paris, I knew my journey had just begun. One of a spiritual kind- God had never been a question thought in my mind. Was art God? I made no connection at the time. It was only til many years later, after facing my dark side and becoming aware of it, that I saw the light- The Sunlight: fresh and true. My soul alit with purity- free from the shackles of dark blocks of drugs, and full of a new kind of art- one I created myself: for God.