T. was there, of course. 

From reading his notebooks, I know that he was carrying Chelsea with him the whole time.  Not that she was there. T. was just writing to his old adulterous girlfriend over and over. He’s obsessive. Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea.

I was there and I was there with Kaatje, who I met on the plane ride over to Europe. She said she recognized me from her dreams and I totally believe her in a complete sense, because we are meant to be together. She grew up in The Hague. That’s where the Dutch queen works, not that I give a damn about that (neither does Kaatje – she’s been a business person, but only because she went to school for that – I bet she runs a cool ass non-profit someday).