it’s been more than a week since i got back from Dhaka, and i still don’t know how to feel about it: the city, the spaces, the people, the moments. two things have made a deep impression on me though: the rememberings and the mosquito bites.
i believe that i’m a highly sentient being, in that, my reactions and experience of anything that involves the seeing, feeling, smelling, hearing is tremendously heightened, and intricately interwoven in how i experience and remember anything and everything. although i see myself as a photographer to some extent, a lot of these heightened experiences are often undocumented with photographs as i just cannot, or at times, refuse to translate them into photographs. instead, i just remember them, as rememberings.
i can somehow still remember the smell of the drizzle and the pastry buried under my nose in Barcelona; the majestic oxen with its shining horns slowly crossing in front of the cab under the fluorescent din of Delhi; the feel of grass in the grasp of fingers in San Francisco; the sand burying toes in Santa Monica; constellations blinding the night in Jaipur. for Dhaka, i guess my most vivid memory is that of me and Seuty, mirrored across different parts of the city, in and out of groups, in and out of laughter, conversations, and the quiet. and the mosquito bites, leaving marks i can still see on my feet.
other than that, i still don’t know how to feel about Dhaka. due for another visit i guess.
give me your hand. i will let you go. 