(by jason jagel)

hong kong is dense, sweaty, every step is a dance, almost, it’s a moving mosh pit, you swivel through a group of high school girls, side-step out of the way of a grandmother, butt heads with a businessman on his cell phone, dodge taxis (car will not stop, they will run you over!), butchers with cleavers, australian tourists flashing pictures, and squeeze into any spare square inch in the elevator, all in one morning, on the way to work.

if you thought sproul plaza at noon was crowded...

no speed limits, no stop signs, just go, black hair swirling all around you, bao phi told a girl once that he wants to get lost in her blackhair, well this city is that desire carved to life, you are lost even while standing still, the streets move around you, teenagers in camo pants and short skirts, neon yellow hair curls, business people with purple ties, cats and cockroaches, glass towers and bamboo construction frames, dried fish, barbeque pork, and motorcycle exhaust, all the colors, all the lights...