Pouring through napthalene scented albums is a past time savoured for those quiet moments of indulgent solitude by the fire. This afternoon I did just that and came across a rare jewel of a photograph. A Buddha baby version of my current self, on the cusp of taking the first tentative steps as an upright human being. Aside from being a reminder of how impossibly cute I was it is testament to how stylish and hip my parents were. The back drop is the living room of my parents' Hong Kong Condominium circa 1978. Perhaps I am drawn to the amber hue, common amongst photographs of this vintage? There are nuances within this meticulously curated space that I have carried with me into adult life. I am welling up with nostalgia and an irrational longing for bamboo furniture. The Phalaenopsis orchids in a vase on the coffee table are a staple within my home and my bloom of choice for any occasion. I am convinced the key to my outlandish taste is hidden within every fibre of that noisy three-piece-suite. The mental snapshot I took at 9 months regurgitates itself often, it is clearly imbedded within my subconscious.
I miss the balmy days, the smell of my Snoopy pencil case and nanny Aurora's chicken adobo.