I Only Have Eyes For You

My favourite colour in my new favourite country. A country full of smiling faces and men in long skirts, of fresh fruit and steaming hot Bamar noodles, of bicycle gangs and long rides around the lake, of strangers (literally) jumping for joy in our photos, of every colour under the baking hot sun, of Dagon beer and secret kisses, of cheap jewellery and priceless memories, of trains around the city complete with yellow watermelon and yellow corn, of betel-stained mouths and babies adorned with eyeliner, of bumpy buses and sweaty bodies, of streets pulsing with taxis and vendors and roosters and the bells of the sugar-cane man, of brilliant, brilliant gold, of constant overwhelming emotion, of never wanting to leave, of love, of love, of love.