The Space We Don't Have to Reveal

Vince doesn't particularly want to be figured out at first.

In a world where people are increasingly expected to introduce themselves through titles, locations, achievements, opinions, and carefully curated pieces of their lives, he is comfortable leaving some things unanswered.

Not because he wants to be misunderstood. Quite the opposite. He simply believes that being known should take time.

There was a time when he shared too much with someone that he considered a friend, only to learn that not every connection is meant to last. Since then, he has become more conscious of what he gives away. To him, information is a kind of currency—and not everything needs to be spent.

Perhaps that is why he prefers the grey area over black or white. There are parts of him people may see immediately, and others that can only be discovered with time.

Some things, after all, are better revealed slowly.

Like a fragrance. You don't experience every note at once.

When Nothing Is Expected

Vince feels most like himself when he is alone. Not necessarily because he dislikes people, but because solitude removes the invisible expectations that come with them. When no one needs anything from him, there is no role to play and no version of himself to maintain. There is simply space to exist.

His idea of comfort is rarely loud or crowded:

A room of his own.

An uncrowded place.

A slow jazz bar under dim yellow lights.

A space where the world becomes quieter and he can hear himself again.

A slow jazz bar Vince visited

 

The Incense That Made Home

His strongest memory of home begins with incense.

Not incense from a grand ceremony or a carefully preserved ritual, but something much more ordinary. A slow weekend at home. His father would occasionally light incense near the dining table by the kitchen, placing it on a small ceramic turtle incense holder. There was no particular occasion. No ceremony. No fixed routine. Just the four of them. His father watching a movie on the sofa. His mother sitting on the floor. His older brother and Vince studying, doing chores, or simply playing around. And somewhere in the middle of it all, the incense quietly burning.

Years later, the scent still brings him back there. This is what makes certain scents so powerful. They don't simply remind us of a place. They return us to a version of ourselves who once inhabited it. A nostalgic atmosphere, if you will, that travels you back in time.

Currently for Vince, incense became something more personal over time. A reminder that home isn't always an address. Sometimes, it is the feeling of everyone you love occupying the same room.

An Incense to slow down the world around him

 

A Ritual of Quiet

When life becomes overwhelming, Vince doesn't necessarily look for an elaborate solution.

He creates an atmosphere. A hot shower. Incense. Jazz playing somewhere in the background. A good perfume. Dim lights. Dark ambience. There is something almost ritualistic about the combination. Each element slowly lowers the volume of the outside world.

And perhaps fragrance plays a particular role in that ritual. A perfume doesn't ask him to perform. It simply exists as it is.

He can experience it without turning it into content, without analysing it for an audience, without needing to explain why he likes it. Sometimes, simply enjoying a scent is enough.

Vince wearing Bentala fragrances

 

A Life with No Audience

Vince is conscious of how easily the internet can turn a life into a performance. What people see is real, but it is never the whole picture. The internet sees a curated version of him. And he is comfortable with that distinction. Not everything deserves an audience.

There are experiences that can remain private. Thoughts that don't need to become posts. Parts of a life that become less meaningful when they are constantly translated for someone else.

Perhaps privacy, for Vince, isn't about hiding. It is about keeping something untouched. A small part of life that belongs only to the person living it.

 

The Rooms We Imagine

Lately, Vince has found himself inspired by beautiful houses. Modern. Minimalist. Quiet. But it isn't really the architecture that captures him. It is what he imagines happening inside.

If it were up to him, his house rooms will be exactly what he pictures it to be. He imagines a future fragrance collection displayed across a cabinet. Bottles collected slowly over the years. Music playing somewhere in the background. A life built around objects, rituals, and details that feel unmistakably his.

Some of Vince's fragrance collection

Try to ask him which character inspires him. “Bruce Wayne/ Batman”, he said. He is fascinated how Bruce Wayne, or Batman, built life around both identities. The wealth. The technology. The immaculate black wardrobe and dark aesthetic. The extraordinary house. Alfred, who is more family than butler.

And beneath all of it, the contradiction. Someone who seems to have access to everything, yet remains profoundly alone. Perhaps Vince is drawn to that tension because it reflects something more universal: the difference between building a life that looks complete and building one that actually feels like your own.

 

What Failure Leaves Behind

If success gives us something to celebrate, Vince believes failure gives us something to understand.

Every wrong decision.

Every disappointment.

Every version of himself he looks back on with regret.

Those moments have shaped him more than many of his achievements. He doesn't romanticize failure. But neither does he wish to erase it. Because some experiences don't need to become victories to become valuable. They can simply become part of the architecture of who we are.

Four objects that represent different periods of his life: his past, his values, his imperfections, and his present

 

The Beauty of Silence

For Vince, one of the most overlooked forms of beauty is silence. The world has become increasingly noisy—not only through sound, but through opinions, updates, commentary, and endless attention directed toward other people's lives.

Sometimes, the noise outside simply adds to the noise already inside our heads. Silence offers something different. It doesn't demand an opinion. It doesn't ask for a reaction. It doesn't need to be explained. It simply gives us enough space to notice what remains when everything else falls away.

Maybe that is why Vince gravitates toward quiet rooms, slow jazz, incense, and dim lights. They all create the same thing in different ways: space.

 

Current Chapter: Building in the Quiet

Vince describes the chapter he is in now quite simply:

Building and learning.

But what he is building isn't necessarily something visible yet. He is building himself. Trying to become better each day. Learning from what came before while becoming more intentional about what comes next.

Perhaps there is a certain irony in that. For someone who doesn't want to be easily figured out, this may be one of the clearest things he knows about himself: he is still becoming. There is no final version to present. No complete identity to package. Only layers being added, removed, and rearranged along the way.

And maybe that is the beauty of it. We don't always have to explain who we are while we are becoming. Sometimes, we can simply keep building—quietly, privately, and in our own time.

 

Along the Way is a conversation series by Bentala that celebrates every person we cross paths with on this journey of life. Through honest and meaningful dialogues, we explore the memories, values, and quiet moments that subtly shape who we are today. Because inspiration doesn't always come from extraordinary lives. Sometimes, it comes from people simply learning to live more truthfully, one step at a time.