Day one in Harlem, New York.

Day one. It’s thirty minutes into Monday. The woman next to me crosses her self  and closes her eyes as the plane lands. Touch down.  While a haggle of New York Jewish guys negotiate with a taxi driver I slip by and get in another cab to The Sugar Hill Harlem Inn. It's a converted brownstone that keeps its history with pride.   It’s near midnight. I take a walk round the block  find a deli and a  coffMotheree. New York. I have arrived and by 1am I'm asleep.I'm awake at  six thirty am. With blurry eyes I catch the subway to midtown to meet my mother (pic on right) at Le Pain Quotidient. I’ve met her about twenty times through twenty five years. I ask her because I had to  “did it happen”.  She tells me things she never told before. I've asked before but I'll never ask again.  It did happen. She tells me things I can't say here about how difficult it is to talk of it. She's fun and I'm fun when I'm with her. It's as good as it gets and I can't ask for more.Come noon with all this in mind  I meet with Natasha and James,  Tigerlilly's producer and director respectfully. I tag along as they hunt locations in Harlem.  Then we check in to Sylvia’s for lunch. Sylvia's is a Harlem institution.  Next we drop by The Shrine to meet Abiodun Oyewole  Baba Tunde and Umar Bin Hassan – The last Poets.  It’s a warm meeting. We catch up. We  connect the dots and go through the next days shoot. Months ago Natasha at Tigerlilly asked if I wanted to do random acts after the success of the ones we'd previously done.  Working with the last poets was what I wanted to do. They've made it happen.  Here we are now. Tomorrow will be their gig in Harlem and my first. I'm new here.The Last PoetsPhoto: l to r Umar Bin Hassan, Abiodun Oyewole Babatunde and me.