Memories or dreams?

Monkey Mountain, Hong Kong. Past memories now distant, wispy dreams, where do they go? They taste like the fresh drops of rain on a new spring day, they feel like the warmth of the inside of your fluffy hood on your cheeks, smell like the tangy spice of a tropical canopy, the giggly fumble in the dark…

An array of flavours and colours, each a slice of our lives. At dusk, these slivers spill across the sky and you’re reminded of another time, another place, another life.


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