Three months in Bangkok and I still do this little ritual — laying out my Contax T2, hard drive, charger, cards, headphones, and my cracked phone corner by corner like a quiet promise I’m really here. I keep circling the archive project in my head, which is kind of cruel when homesickness bites like this. Tonight I’m aching for my mom’s ghormeh sabzi and the soft chatter of Farsi in the kitchen. It’s almost like you can touch it in the air. Still, the city hums outside my window and I can’t stop reaching for the next frame.

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