Golden Veins of Vietnam is a series in which images interact with matter to evoke our roots—those visible and invisible ties that run through us, shape our memories, and nourish our inner heritage. How do traditions and ancestral gestures continue to flow through us, like invisible veins? Heritage is never static. It circulates, is transmitted, transforms – and sometimes resurfaces in a burst of light. Two platinum-palladium prints on gold leaf open the narrative: Halong Bay, mineral and eternal, and a woman in traditional dress, posed in the heart of a lotus field. Next come four cyanotypes toned with coffee, mounted on gilded Vietnamese acacia wood. Photography is no longer just an image: it becomes an imprint, a memory, a material. The veins of the wood run through faces, landscapes and gestures. They trace invisible rivers, roots, wrinkles – lifelines. The wood, the living support for each image, becomes a metaphor for these inner lines: a material that bears the traces of time, scars, but also the softness of the fibres. The gold enhances what remains precious, tender and immutable in our memories. The scenes are simple and universal: a solitary fisherman on the water, an old man watching a child play near a temple, a buffalo in the countryside, etc Born in France to parents who fled the war, I have long carried a fragmented history. This work is not a return to pain, but an encounter with another Vietnam: one that breathes beauty, slowness and transmission. Together, these photographs form a song dedicated to what connects us all: traditions, the continuity of gestures, and the way the past still resonates in our bodies, our gazes and our stories.