To the little things that make life special.

I came across a line somewhere—perhaps in a movie, perhaps in a book—and it mentioned something about finding the best moments in something, perhaps in a movie, perhaps in a book.

And I’ve been doing that ever since.

The great thing about this is that the best moments are different for everyone. A single moment, a single scene, a single line—it can strike one person deeply, yet pass unnoticed by another. And that, I think, is the beauty of it. The subjectivity. The personal connection. The mystery of why that moment, of all moments, lingers.

For me, it could be something small. A line in a Vietnamese song. The way she sings it, the way her voice breaks just slightly—it hits me. Deep. I could hear the same line sung by another artist, but it wouldn’t be the same. Wouldn’t have that feeling. Wouldn’t pull me in like this.

Or it could be a line from a book. Of course, now that I’m trying to think of one, I can’t recall a single one. Typical. But I’ll remind myself to update this page when I do. Because words—when strung together in just the right way—can hit like lightning, like a punch to the gut, like a whisper that lingers long after the book is closed. And my hope—when someone reads my words—is that their best moment isn’t just The End.

Recently, I’ve expanded this whole idea beyond books, beyond music. Now I think about my favorite moments in everything. My favorite part of a meal—the crisp crunch of a potato chip. My favorite part of someone—their eyes, their hands, the way they tilt their head when they’re deep in thought. My favorite part of a painting—the brush strokes, the tiny imperfection in the corner that makes it feel human.

And what I love most? Asking someone—what’s your favorite part? And then—why?

It’s a hard question, one that most people don’t really think about. I don’t know, I just do—a common response. But sometimes, rarely, beautifully, they do know. They can explain. And in those moments, I get to peek through a window, glimpse the gears shifting inside their mind, see a tiny piece of what makes them them.

And that, to me—

is fascinating.