Days in my grandfather’s garden were spent among his plants. In the greenhouse, rose bushes stood among orange trees, on which blossom and fruit grew in tandem. Pots of patchouli lined the patio; the aroma from rubbing their green leaves on my wrists. The scent of the stream drew me barefoot into its water. I paddled under the watchful gaze of my father and grandfather, their faces obscured by tobacco pipe smoke. STORIES Nº.02 is an invitation to walk among the flowers, shed your shoes at the river and recover that which has been lost.