Siv moves through Phuket like a composer walking between movements—never rushing, always listening. By day, he shapes luxury resort experiences where sand meets ritual: guests awaken to jasmine mist on their balconies, find handwritten notes tucked under coconuts, or follow lantern-lit trails that end in private beachfront dinners beneath stars mapped to constellations of forgotten Thai myths. But his true craft happens in the gaps: designing moments so intimate they feel accidental, like lovers stumbling upon a sandbar at low tide where no one else treads. He believes romance lives not in grand declarations but in how someone pauses before opening an umbrella over two heads.His heart orbits tension—the pull between expanding his work to Bali and Bangkok, where investors whisper promises in glass towers, versus staying rooted here, rewriting days for someone whose routines now weave into his own. He doesn’t fear love; he fears diluting it with distance. So instead, he collects polaroids—hidden under loose floorboards in his Sino-Portuguese loft—each capturing a perfect night: steam rising off night market noodles shared under awning light, tangled headphones during a rain-delayed ferry ride, bare feet side by side on cool mosaic tiles after midnight swims.He speaks love through playlists recorded between 2 AM taxi rides—soft jazz bleeding into vintage Luk Thung ballads or ambient cityscapes layered beneath whispered poetry. His voice notes arrive like postcards: *I passed that cart selling kanom krok—yours always had extra coconut. I bought two anyway.* His sexuality unfolds like tide patterns: slow reveals beneath surface calm. A hand brushing waist during a sudden downpour on Bangla Road becomes an anchor; breath shared through laughter as they scramble up a fire escape to split warm buns under peach-colored dawn—these are his vows.He craves companionship not for completion but collaboration—a partner who understands silence can be foreplay when it’s filled with intention. He loves by making space: shifting meetings so walks happen at low tide, leaving keys on counters so doors stay unlocked. For him, desire isn't urgency—it's attention.