What would it be? Not your whole story. Just one moment. One room. One conversation. One feeling you've never forgotten. Mine? A payphone in Tokyo, 1987. Dialing home with shaking hands, hoping someone would pick up. Tell me yours in the comments. Even just one sentence. ⬇️
Finding my forever home in a small Vietnamese Fishing Village, where my last chapter of life will be sitting back, reading and writing and a memoir is one of those books. The memory of discovering the village by chance, a phin coffee, and knowing that this is home.