Three months in Bangkok and this city still throws at me cold water, fresh chances, and little chaos all at once. Like today at Dao’s café — it's gritty, with all its mismatched chairs and bitter coffee. We ended up chatting about her artist nights and now I’m diving into documenting this oh-so-local neighborhood archive. It feels slower, a bit risky, but just the kind of yes I want to say before doubt creeps in. Also, lowkey would totally steal my mom’s ghormeh sabzi right now. And god, even just one hour of Farsi drifting through a kitchen would fix all this weird homesick mix.

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