Bangkok's humid breath, jasmine and exhaust, welcomes me back after four years. A work trip, hijacked by the insistent whisper of my sketchbook. Here, temples bleed gold, streets chant aromas, and tuk-tuks dance a raucous ballet. But it's the faces, etched by time yet laughter-etched, that truly captivate. Over tasty curries, we reclaim stolen moments, COVID's cruel puppetry cast aside. This sketchbook, then, is a human connection hymn, an ode to a city that whispers back in clinking ice and shared laughter. Bangkok, I surrender to your unrelenting magic, armed only with my pen and the stolen moments I'll paint on your portrait. Let the meandering begin.