Bangladesh

I landed in Bangladesh inside a permanent state of emergency—noise, mud, prayers, bodies in motion—where chaos isn’t an event but the default setting. Survival here runs on faith and proximity: you eat because someone shares, you move because someone guides, you endure because relationships are warmer than fear.

These images come from that pressure cooker, where trust is currency and love is spoken softly, like a necessary truth.

The title comes from a man who, when words failed us both, smiled, rested a hand on my shoulder, and said “no problem, I love you”—a sentence that carried more hospitality, dignity, and human grace than any language I know.