Via my absolute lack of remorse over not documenting every single moments of my life with a picture, I have no concrete evidence of whatever happened in Danang just happened.
The only way I could remember that any of this happened is through the renewed ways that My Khe beach at night make me feel, through these new jazz and instrumental albums added to my library, and through the taste of St Remy with a hint of mint and violet.
I was sitting on the back of Ryan's scooter piercing through the city at 4am in the morning, as these words hover over me, and the black shiny Han river looked back at into my eyes.
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