Mon amour, ma chérie, je t’aime beaucoup, all words I can add to my vocabulary after spending a weekend with a beautiful  creole rasta. Where did we meet? Where else but a reggae band.

Peace and love, he says, that’s what comes with the reggae. A smoke, a drink, a dance.

When are you coming back. I tell him then end of the year, maybe. I see yearning in his eyes, but I cannot promise anything more.

Why I meet you now, when you are leaving. I look at him, roll my body against his with his face in my hands and sing to him “I don’t want to wait in vain”. He laughs a big beautiful open mouth laugh. I laugh too, and we say goodbye.