Sitting atop a karst mountain, looking down on the limestone peaks and boats bobbing along the Ngo Dong River – a huge expansive view, a view to drown in, – my gaze was drawn down to the girl sitting quietly next to me, painting a jar of incense at the foot of the Quan Am. A narrowing. Honing in like ants on a sticky trail. ‘I like your drawing’, I told her. I’d found a fellow incense freak. ‘I know it’s a bit strange to be concentrating on this, in such a place’, she mumbled. Not at all, I thought. ‘It’s always the same, the same colours, the same arrangement. I just love it. I have so many drawings of this’. I too love it. The simplicity. The beauty. The act of faith. Who needs karst mountains. Beauty is in the detail. And in the eye of the beholder.