TimTim.Live

In 1986, I was 18 years old with a pocket full of dreams and a heart full of music.

One day in Lynn, Massachusetts, I walked into a music store and saw it—a white guitar hanging on the wall. I can still see that moment as if it happened yesterday. The street. The store. The excitement in my chest when I first wrapped my hands around it.

That guitar wasn't just wood and strings.

It was freedom.

It was hope.

It was the soundtrack of a future I had not yet lived.

I imagined stages I had never seen, songs I had not yet written, and people I had not yet met singing along to music that only existed in my dreams.

But life has a way of testing our dreams.

Not long afterward, I had to make one of the hardest decisions of my young life. I walked back into that same store and sold the guitar.

I still remember watching it leave my hands.

Forty years later, I can tell you the truth:

I never got over it.

Because when you let go of a dream, a part of your heart stays connected to it forever.

A few years later, during my final semester at Salem State University in Salem, Massachusetts, I enrolled in a piano class. My goal wasn't just to earn a grade.

My goal was to start a band.

I earned a B+, but what I really gained was confirmation that music was calling me.

I bought an electric piano and spent hours practicing songs from Tropicana d'Haïti. Those melodies carried me somewhere beyond classrooms, beyond responsibilities, beyond the limitations of everyday life. When I played, I felt alive. I felt connected to my culture, my roots, and my future.

Yet life kept moving.

Business opportunities appeared. Responsibilities grew. Careers were built.

And little by little, music took a seat in the background while I focused on building businesses and creating opportunities for others.

But here's something I've learned:

A true passion never dies.

It waits.

Patiently.

Quietly.

Faithfully.

Waiting for the day you finally come back home.

And then something beautiful happened.

Nearly 40 years after saying goodbye to that white guitar, I found it again.

Or maybe it found me.

The moment I held that white guitar in my hands, time disappeared. I wasn't just the man I am today. I was also that 18-year-old kid standing in that music store in Lynn, believing anything was possible.

The dream had come full circle.

Today, that same white guitar is back where it belongs.

In my hands.

In my heart.

And soon, on stages around the world.

As I prepare for my "Konpa to the World" global musical tour, I am not simply performing songs.

I am sharing a lifelong journey.

A dream delayed but never abandoned.

A passion that refused to die.

A story of believing that it is never too late to answer the call that has been living inside you all along.

When you listen to my music, I don't want you to simply hear it.

I want you to feel it.

I want you to hear the dreams of an 18-year-old kid born in Les Cayes, Haiti and living now in Washington DC USA.

I want you to hear the sacrifices, the victories, the setbacks, and the hope.

I want you to hear the sound of someone finding his way back to himself after four decades.

And if my music moves you, then our stories become connected.

Because deep down, we all have a white guitar.

We all have a dream we once loved.

We all have something that life pulled us away from.

My journey is about finding my way back.

Maybe, together, we'll help you find our way back to our true passion and destiny.