Writing letters in the rain under the canvas, listening to records played from the center of the mosquito nets, or from the veranda overlooking the city lights. It may not have been in the same places.. Under the waterfall, ignoring their calls, receiving a Dear John Letter, or being iced on your anniversary. It may have been at different times, but we felt the same..

Whether from the jumpdoor of the plane passing the archipelago, or over the ocean, clouds dotting the below like islands, trying and failing to call here home. Whether from the bed of an airfield hospital with malaria, or from a tiny apartment before the pandemic, it was really all the same..

Inspired by the journals, letters, and photographs of James Jenkins, 1942-1943 from Luzon, Philippines

All music, tapes, 4-track, Uher, field recordings, Sony Tapecorder, found sounds, Lexicon PCM 42, pipe reverb by Will Long