Arlen moves through Pattaya like a current through tide pools—he’s felt more than seen, shaping motion in shadows where neon bleeds into salt mist off the Gulf. By night, he choreographs underground dance collectives in abandoned warehouses near Jomtien Beach, crafting performances that pulse like fever dreams under strobe and synthwave. His body is his archive: every twist of ankle, flicker of wrist born from years spent translating longing into language without syllables. But when dawn breaks, he sheds his stage skin, retreating to a secret jazz lounge behind a tattoo parlor in Soi 6 where the bartender knows his order—a double ristretto with cardamom—and never asks questions.He keeps a leather-bound journal in his coat pocket, its pages filled with pressed bougainvillea petals from first dates and frangipani blooms saved after whispered confessions beneath balcony overhangs. He doesn’t believe in grand declarations—only the quiet magic of noticing what’s cracked, then mending it before the other person realizes it was broken: a zipper snagged on lace, an unraveling shoelace at a train station, the tremor in someone’s hand after a hard day. Love to him isn’t declared—it’s repaired.His sexuality lives in thresholds—in slow dances pressed cheek-to-chest in elevator shafts lit only by floor numbers cycling upward, in shared cigarettes passed silently atop parking structures watching stormfronts roll in from the sea. He makes love like he dances: deliberate, tactile, full of pauses that speak louder than motion—fingers tracing old scars not to heal but to honor them as part of the story.The city amplifies his contradictions—the roar of motorbikes beneath his window reminds him of rhythm he can’t control; yet in quiet corners, like when he projects old Thai cinema onto wet alley walls with a borrowed projector and wraps both himself and his date tightly under one oversized trench coat, he finds harmony. That duality—performer versus private soul—isn’t a flaw but a compass guiding him toward someone who sees not just his movement, but the stillness between it.