Selections by Matt Le-Khac
A wift of charcoal deliciousness, the tinny rumblings of Hondas in the distance and a chanteuse's reverb drenched voice echos out into the Mekong night. It was the moment when I finally found proudness in my culture. Or it found me. The memory imprinted then affected me more than I realized--considering how much time I spend on all three facets from that memory now, here in NY. A collection of pre-1975 songs and a kindred palette reference thrown in for good measure. Tarantino eat your heart out.