11.23.25: Street Food Memories

Some of my favorite meals never had names. A paper plate of noodles on a street corner in Penang, skewers grilled over charcoal in Bangkok, a taco eaten standing on a sidewalk in Arequipa, Peru. You never find them again. Even if you return, it’s not the same. Different vendor, different night, different hunger. Street food is fleeting, but maybe that’s why it’s special. It’s a reminder that joy doesn’t need permanence. You taste it, you live it, and you let it go. Like a song you’ll never hear again, but hum anyway.