Hong Kong

My visit to Hong Kong in 2010 was fleeting—just three days, tucked between the rush of a video shoot—but those seventy-something hours left a deep imprint. I remember stealing pockets of time to wander with my camera, slipping through side streets and markets, chasing light between skyscrapers. It wasn’t long, but it was enough.

Hong Kong then felt electric—alive in a way that almost hummed through your skin. The city pulsed with contradictions: incense smoke curling around neon signs, trams rattling past sleek towers of glass, the old and the new coexisting with a kind of restless grace. I tried to capture that duality—the East meeting the West, tradition brushing shoulders with modern ambition.

Looking back, those photographs feel almost like time capsules. They hold fragments of a city standing on the edge of change, still fiercely itself, still free in spirit. There’s a certain ache in revisiting them now, knowing what has shifted since. But maybe that’s what makes them precious—the fleeting, unrepeatable energy of Hong Kong as it once was, caught just long enough for a shutter’s click.