{photo credit missing!} In the company of my fellow artistic collaborators, I finally made it to Canada: the stomping grounds of my French ancestors. We would be there for no longer than a day. In the Montreal airport I saw many obvious Mexican immigrants. Remind me again- which country has that big green statue and that lovely poem about huddled masses? During lunch, I sat in a vegan cafe alone in Mile End. I had been ditched there so more errands could be run before show time. It was my impression that no one wanted to share 'healthy' food with me either. The clouds gathered enough to let down a spring rain. The musical selection connected me back to NYC. Brooklyn Rider played. I'd been in a performance with those musicians! The time with my own thoughts, scrawling long hand in a note book was not under appreciated. Part of me was wondering why I didn't speak French; part of me wondered why I was born in America; part of me wanted to go to slee