We all process experiences differently based on a complicated stew of past experiences, geography, DNA and an aesthetic appreciation that comes upon each of us kind of mysteriously. Certain places I've visited have resonated with me sort of unexpectedly. While I was in Rome I loved almost every corner of the city - which was no surprise - but I was especially drawn to a certain type of architecture from before the war. My guide was an architecture professor and he explained to me that these brutalist style was from the Mussolini era. That I was so drawn to a fascist aesthetic was a little disturbing. Seeing this photo of a Japanese temple my mind was called back to childhood and a late-night viewing of the 1937 film Lost Horizon. I was marked by the moment in the Frank Capra film that the group of plane passengers crashes in the Himalayas and comes upon Shangra-La, the hidden paradise. I realize now that something about the way the Pagodas rise up out of the green mountainside subconsciously brought me back to that moment. The pagodas themselves strike at some nerve center of aesthetic appreciation I can't quite account for. I find stacked things really satisfying so the identical layers of intricately carved wood in those bright shades of vermillion hit the sensory jackpot for me. Add in the layers of history and I'm in my own private Shangra-la.