I recently spent an evening dining and conversing with Radcliffe, my sister Leslie’s partner, and some friends, in Brooklyn. I was in the U.S. for a few weeks visiting family and renewing my Kenyan visa. Radcliffe, a painter, sculptor, and installation artist, was working on a series of paintings on sheet music, which he transported in an old Count Basie record cover. Brilliant. He told me that these pieces would be part of an upcoming exhibit in Europe. The work centered around a series of photographs of West and Central African sculptures. The sculptures were placed within surreal worlds, rich in color and texture. After a dinner of grilled fava beans, salmon, and ramps, I sat and watched Radcliffe work on the paintings. Later that evening, we went for drinks at a local lounge in Bed-Stuy, and then to the Eye Spy party in Williamsburg, whose theme was music influenced by the Native Tongues movement. It had been several years since I lived in Brooklyn and the changes throughout the borough were apparent – from the Barclay’s Center to the new residents who’ve moved into my old neighborhoods of Bed-Stuy and Crown Heights. Folks who have lived in Brooklyn for years will be the first to tell you – it’s not what it used to be. And I think that’s true…but somehow in my evening with Radcliffe, my sister, and our friends, I was reminded that home is where the heart is, and a piece of my heart still lives in Brooklyn.