I’m walking on deserted, black sanded beaches. The waves are washing the ocean’s salty water over my feet. Already, my step is untraceable – it’s memory washed away at creation. Maybe I’m dancing; maybe I’m just wandering. I’ve walked into abandoned houses, breaking into an unknown history, marvelling at the decayed construction. I got lost in the Balinese rice fields, to the point only technology could bring me back to my temporary home; just to spend the warm sweaty night entangled in dreams of you. And as I wake, I collect these images as I would seashells that no current can take away. How backwards this paradise dream is: rain during the day, but a clear starry night. Just like how I am here, but you’re not at all. Yet, how I love this state of wandering wonder that took away all doubt that I’m at home with you.