If the movies and shows we watch are any indication, love is apparently just one trip away. And it seems many are embracing that fantasy, even as they use dating apps. With Tinder’s ‘passport feature’, you can swipe across locations far beyond your immediate surroundings. Turns out, many are doing just that in the quest to find love.

According to a recent report, many are expanding their romantic horizons by connecting with potential matches overseas. The most popular countries include Mexico, Canada, Colombia, the Philippines, Japan, France, and Spain. 

While the idea of finding love abroad is tempting, statistics reveal that only one in 57 Tinder matches leads to an in-person meet-up, and the numbers fall significantly when international travel is involved.

This shift in dating behaviour, however, highlights a larger trend — people are becoming more intentional about romance, actively seeking connections that align with their goals, no matter where in the world those connections may be. What do you think?

What began as a niche genre in 1970s Japan has blossomed into a global cultural phenomenon: Boys’ Love (BL) literature. Centred on romantic relationships between male characters, BL first gained traction through shōjo manga targeted at young women. By exploring non-heteronormative relationships, these early works broke societal norms and sparked a wave of storytelling that blended fantasy with emotional depth.

Today, BL transcends its Japanese roots, thriving in countries like Thailand, South Korea, and beyond. Thai BL dramas, such as 2gether and KinnPorsche, have amassed devoted international fandoms, showcasing Asia’s storytelling prowess and sparking deeper discussions about LGBTQIA+ representation in mainstream media.

The genre’s universal appeal lies in its exploration of themes like love, identity, and acceptance, while providing a safe space to navigate the fluidity of relationships. For many fans, BL serves as both escapism and a platform to question societal norms around gender and romance.

While some critics highlight its reliance on certain tropes or idealised portrayals, BL’s impact is undeniable. It challenges stereotypes, fosters cross-cultural connections, and redefines modern storytelling. In spaces where such conversations are often overlooked, Boys’ Love is like a silent movement celebrating the many ways love is expressed.

Usually when we see a book that is associated with a non-literary celebrity, we tend to dismiss it as a quick cash grab. However, that is not the case with The Book of Elsewhere, which has emerged from a collaboration between two A-listers in their own milieu.

In 2021, Keanu Reeves, in collaboration with Boom! Studios, released a twelve part comic book series titled BRZRKR. Following a warrior who goes by the name Berzerker, or B, the series covered disparate time periods as the protagonist made his way through time, fighting different battles and different enemies.

After the initial series had been met with acclaim, speculative fiction author China Mieville, who was also a fan of the series, was roped in to write a book with the actor. The result is The Book of Elsewhere, which continues the story of B, but this time, it has a little philosophical bent to it. Since B is immortal, the book delves deep into his mind and what he thinks about life. Having lived through millennia, he is looking for a release. But he won’t get it just yet, as he still has to learn much about the living to be truly dying.

People who have read Mieville’s prose will find his attention to detail and signature writing style present. What Reeves provides the narrative is also rather interesting, as it creates a certain space for imagining by the reader, rather than Mieville’s descriptions doing the job. And when it comes to something philosophically heavy, a slight sparseness is always welcome.

In an age of instant gratification and on-demand entertainment, a surprising genre has quietly captivated viewers: Norwegian Slow TV. Imagine hours of uninterrupted footage of a train gliding through snowy landscapes or the hypnotic rhythm of knitting needles clicking away. It might sound improbable, but this meditative form of television has found a devoted global audience.

Pioneered by Norway’s national broadcaster, NRK, Slow TV rejects the fast-paced nature of programming, instead revelling in the beauty of the mundane. Its breakout success, Hurtigruten: Minute by Minute, gave people a 134-hour live broadcast of a ferry journey along Norway’s rugged coastline. The programme captured not just the voyage but also the changing weather, serene fjords, and onboard routines.

Other highlights include Bergensbanen: Minute by Minute, a seven-hour train journey from Bergen to Oslo, and National Knitting Night, which followed a world-record attempt to produce a sweater from sheep to finish in a single night. Then there’s Salmon Fishing, where the steady rhythm of anglers patiently casting their lines proves unexpectedly captivating.

Far from being monotonous, Slow TV elevates the ordinary, turning simple moments into a calming escape. It gently invites you to slow down, savoring the small, often overlooked details of the present moment. And what could be better than that?

Have you ever dined at a place so eco-friendly it doesn’t even have a bin? Welcome to Silo in Hackney, East London, where the future of dining meets zero waste. Founded by chef Douglas McMaster, Silo boldly claims the title of the world’s first zero-waste restaurant, proving that reducing food and environmental waste can be as innovative as it is delicious.

At Silo, food scraps find a second life. Vegetable peelings transform into treacle, and bread offcuts become ice cream sandwiches. The ethos extends beyond the plate, with sustainable furniture, reusable delivery containers, and projected menus that eliminate paper waste. It’s a space where every detail is a celebration of resourcefulness.

Silo isn’t just about food; it’s part of a larger movement challenging the restaurant industry to rethink waste. Its approach inspires chefs, diners, and policymakers alike, showing that sustainability and creativity can coexist.

The experience is as thought-provoking as it is satisfying. Imagine sitting in a minimalist, earthy space, savouring dishes that embody the art of culinary recycling. It’s more than a meal — it’s a glimpse of what dining could, and should, become.

Bamboo is experiencing a resurgence in modern design and construction, celebrated for its sustainability and versatility. Known for its rapid growth and eco-friendly attributes, bamboo is not only a renewable resource, but also a material with deep cultural and historical significance across Asia. Its usage in architecture dates back centuries, particularly in countries like China and Japan, where it has been integral in building structures, from homes to scaffolding.

Architects like Ewe Jin Low, who has worked extensively with bamboo, are helping to shift the paradigm in construction, advocating for bamboo to replace more conventional materials like steel and concrete. Low’s journey, which took him from mainstream architecture across the world to a bamboo-focused practice in Bali, highlights how bamboo is not only practical but also deeply rooted in tradition. The organic, flexible nature of bamboo allows for innovative, sinuous designs that elicit awe from those who experience them.

Culturally, bamboo has held profound symbolism in many Asian societies. In Chinese culture, bamboo is a symbol of virtue and integrity, while in Japan, it embodies simplicity and inner peace. In India, bamboo plays a role in sacred rituals, symbolising prosperity and fertility.

As global awareness around sustainable materials grows, bamboo’s flexible, lightweight properties make it an attractive alternative for both architecture and product design, paving the way for eco-conscious solutions in construction and beyond.

Picture this: you’re sprawled on the couch with your closest friend, phones in hand but barely scrolling, the conversation meandering between silence and bursts of laughter. There’s no agenda, no plans, just the quiet ease of being in each other’s company. It’s a moment so unremarkable that you might not even register its importance — but science says otherwise.

Spending time with loved ones without the pressure of “doing something” is increasingly recognised as vital for mental well-being. These moments of shared idleness strengthen bonds, offering a space where vulnerability and connection thrive. Free from distractions, we’re able to let down our guard, share unfiltered thoughts, and simply be.

Psychologists highlight numerous benefits to this downtime, from reducing stress to fostering a deeper sense of belonging. As modern life pushes us to optimise every second, the quiet magic of doing nothing with someone we trust becomes a small act of rebellion — and a profound reminder of what really matters.

So, the next time you’re tempted to cancel a plan that’s just “hanging out,” maybe reconsider. It might just be the most restorative thing you’ll do all week.

At a Korean table, it’s not the main dish that takes the spotlight — it’s banchan, a collection of small side dishes that invite sharing and spark conversation. Rooted in Korea’s rich history, banchan first emerged during the Joseon Dynasty, evolving from a practical way to preserve food during long winters to a symbol of hospitality.

Banchan encompasses a variety of flavours and textures, from the spicy, fermented tang of kimchi to the subtle, earthy notes of namul (seasoned vegetables). These dishes are a celebration of balance and harmony, using seasonal ingredients to reflect Korea’s deep connection to nature. Whether it’s spring greens, summer vegetables, or winter preserves, the bounty of the seasons is on display in every bite.

Beyond their taste, banchan also has a wealth of health benefits, with many dishes rich in probiotics, antioxidants, and nutrients that naturally support gut health. But more than just nourishment, banchan serves as a reminder of Korea’s communal dining culture — where food is meant to be shared, enjoyed, and celebrated together, reinforcing bonds and creating moments of connection.

Dogs have an uncanny ability to make themselves at home — whether it’s on your designer sofa or smack in the middle of your bed. But what if their spaces were as thoughtfully designed as yours? That’s the premise behind Architecture for Dogs, a project where top-tier architects channel their creativity into crafting innovative spaces for our canine companions.

Take Kengo Kuma’s design for Pugs, for example. It’s a minimalist ‘mountain’ structure made by interlocking plywood pieces. This is a multifunctional haven that caters to a Pug’s love for burrowing and climbing. Lightweight yet sturdy, it offers both a cozy hideout and an engaging play area.

Meanwhile, Konstantin Grcic’s creation for Toy Poodles is a playful take on mirrors. Designed to appeal to the breed’s intelligence and curiosity, it reflects their movements, creating an endlessly entertaining experience. It’s part art installation, part interactive playground.

What makes these designs remarkable is their attention to detail. Each piece is tailored to specific breeds, addressing their instincts and behaviors while blending seamlessly into human-centric spaces. These doghouses are architectural statements, redefining how we think about pet spaces.

It’s a fascinating intersection of form, function, and fun. By considering dogs as active participants in design, Architecture for Dogs elevates their living spaces.