Monarch Butterfly Art

Wing Sun is a 10 year old Malaysian boy. We see him from the back as he stands, looking down the street in the evening. The scent of mooncakes and burning lantern oil fills the air in the street in Petaling Jaya where Wing Sun lives. Everything is aglow with the soft light of lanterns, their colors reflected in the puddles left by the afternoon rain. At least 6 vendors have pulled their carts up onto the sidewalks on both sides of the street, selling moon pies and other special treats. Several of Wing-Sun's neighborhood friends, some younger than he and some a little older, were standing around in a circle, waiting for him to come outside.
Inside an informal church in Kuala Lumpur. Wing Sun and his father and mother, along with Siu Zi, his friend from school are there together. We are standing in the back of the room, and there are many more people than there were in the London church. There are people of different ethnicities, but mostly Chinese Malaysian. The Pastor, a Chinese man, is standing up front speaking to the congregation, facing them. The atmosphere is hot and sweaty, with ceiling fans running, but still welcoming, Wing Sun is happy that his family is together and also that his friend Siu Zi, who he has just learned is a Christian, can be there too.
Morning inside the classroom at a private school in Kuala Lumpur before class begins. Students stand next to their desks as the teacher, standing in front, leads them in the usual morning recitations of the five national principles, their voices blending into one: "Kepercayaan kepada Tuhan." (Belief in God.) "Kesetiaan kepada Raja dan Negara." (Loyalty to the King and Country.) "Keluhuran Perlembagaan." (Supremacy of the Constitution.) "Kedaulatan Undang-Undang." (Rule of Law.) "Kesopanan dan Kesusilaan." (Courtesy and Morality.) Wing-Sun repeats the words automatically, his eyes drift across the classroom, catching a glimpse of Siu-Zi, the new girl, standing in her usual spot near the window.
Inside a home in Petaling Jaya, Wing-Sun, a 10 year old Chinese boy sits cross-legged on the cool tile floor, watching the delicate tendrils of smoke rise from the joss sticks his father has just placed in the family altar’s bronze urn. The flickering candlelight casts shifting shadows over the framed portraits of the ancestors, their solemn faces gazing out from another time. Wing-Sun's father, dressed in crisp slacks and a neatly pressed white shirt, murmurs a quiet prayer, his voice low and rhythmic. Beside him, Wing-Sun’s mother clasps her hands together in a quiet moment of respect before adjusting the jade bangle on her wrist. Their morning ritual is a quiet, practiced thing; one they perform, and Wing-Sun observes, every day.
First century Jerusalem at the "gate beautiful" to the temple grounds. Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong.