We had confined with wall, but the doors was opened. The place where the times buried in, where I took that in. ChiangMai was full with that walls, narrow streets with houses and memories with people.

Charming cafe on the backstreet. Sometimes there are some fishes on the grill made by half of drum in front of restaurant. On the back to our sweat laundry, we just called chef on the street to order a cup of apple juice.
I’m missing that relaxing with fruit juice. Houses which seems to talk each other, strong sunlight, scouter’s noise, dust, and smells in ChiangMai. All of them.

I’m missing them.