The bakery your family visited on a cold night in December 2004... A man standing in front of your apartment entrance to make a phone call, beside him parked a pet stroller with a curious schnauzer... A simple brown handbag your mom would love, sitting on a rack with a loud label that proclaims it for sale... A pink box of Narciso Rodriguez on the perfume counter, inside which you know sits a black, rectangular-shaped bottle... A middle-aged man walking in front of you, slight of build with a head of salt and pepper hair, grey and white intertwined with black... The rows of stores in Mongkok with athletic shoes all on sale... The repeat movie on HBO Signature, which, weeks ago, was the show you watched with your family before your flight to Hong Kong...

It’s amazing how simple, little things can sometimes ascribe enduring meaning to random and fleeting vignettes of your life. Polished, they transform into iridescent shards of memories you hold dear above all others.