
















Three mountainous hours northwest of Chiang Mai, around 762 hairpin bends that Thai the rider’s stomach in whorls of knots, lies the little town of Pai, where old hippies go to die and young hippies come to live amid the colours and the food stalls.

















Three mountainous hours northwest of Chiang Mai, around 762 hairpin bends that Thai the rider’s stomach in whorls of knots, lies the little town of Pai, where old hippies go to die and young hippies come to live amid the colours and the food stalls.







When it’s Gone, it’s Gone, Until it Returns at the Break 0f Day.

Flaming Eyes of Amber Blue Give the World a Solemn Hue.

Old Friends Cast Long Shadows.

A Night on The Town, Except There Is No Town, Only Night.