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a mold is but a mold--invariably beautiful and yet reclaiming its own in silence. Someone once told me that the sense of smell is possibly the most powerful; sometimes the most captivating, conjuring cues of past. I remember as a young boy receiving letters from my brother who was then fighting a war in North Vietnam. His letters were greatly anticipated. And yet, there was always something unmistakably familiar about the paper and envelope; they smelled of an earthen sweetness, a quality like no other. Forty years later I have come to understand this.

photos ::
Bangkok, Thailand, and Hong Kong, China, respectively 2006