In the old town, tight rows of timber houses are painted canary yellow. Bursts of colour greet you at every turn. Blue doors line the lanes. While bougainvilleas bloom and creep across the facades.

In Saigon, the heat was draining. The streets, deafening. The chaos, overwhelming. The city, alive—and so was I. Here’s what I saw.

I want to reflect on the deeper drives behind my photography. To reassess and reaffirm why I do what I do.