From Dreaming of Hong Kong to Getting Lost in Its Streets

A long time ago, in a small village, I had a dream. Not the kind where you’re flying or falling into an abyss (though, honestly, those dreams were pretty regular too). No, this dream was all about Hong Kong. I was a young art student, lost in the usual swirl of creativity and teenage angst, and I had a secret crush on a girl who was, quite frankly, too cool for my existence. She was Anglo-Italian, born in Angola, raised in Hong Kong, and looked like a walking bohemian painting. I was smitten.

But before I got swept up in the romance of Hong Kong through her wild hair and jangly jewelry, I was already obsessed with the idea of escaping the UK. It wasn’t that I didn’t love the rain and grey skies (I actually did), but something told me that the world was bigger than my little corner of it. Fast forward to 17, and I finally got a passport. The first trip? London. Groundbreaking, I know. But it wasn’t until 2012 that I made my way to Hong Kong for the first time, and it was worth the wait.

I had a friend working there who suggested I come over, so I packed my bags and let the city take over. Hong Kong was everything I imagined—like New York, but on steroids. The energy, the chaos, the impossible-to-ignore vibrancy. I did what any photographer would do in such a place: I walked myself senseless, snapped thousands of photos, and then returned home to realize I had captured… well, not much. Just the rush of it all, with no real structure.

Now, I’ve learned the key to experiencing places like this. You need a second visit. The shock of the new wears off, and you can really take it all in without feeling like you might miss something or lose it forever. The rush of discovery becomes a leisurely walk, and you can finally photograph the story behind the madness.

Stay tuned for Part 2 (and some more photos)!