A Note in my Pocket

High in the mountains, between Andorra and Marseille,

It came to me that on the 3rd of April, 2013

I wrote my name on a piece of paper(Not knowing why)

After 4 years dangling off the edge of a white cloud.

That note told me who I had been before these terrible dreams entered into my life.

Every time she met me, she never met me

Every time she said anything…after a few days.

She never said anything.

This was her world, her system, she was God.

And I was a dirty truth…or was I?

She told me she never met me, she doesn’t know me….or did she?

She suggested that maybe I am a made up figment of my own imagination in a reality that never took place.

All I had left was a note that read.


I can only thank the fact that I wrote a note, and on it I wrote my stupid name.

You can build a life, a universe and a whole bunch of Love with just a name.

But you need a name.

Always remember your name.