I've always drawn to the colors and culture represented in the Chinatowns of the world. So diverse yet so directed. So vibrant and pulsing with life of the young and new, yet respectful of its past heritage and those who built it up. The steady flow of grandparents and grandchildren united all in one place. A flow only broken up by the footsteps of tourists and one time visitors. Knick knacks and things with no more meaning to them than the cartoon on its package or knick knacks and things with meaning that runs deeper than the root of even the largest potted Chinese bamboo tree. The smell of fish on the sidewalk fighting against the smell of fresh baked breads and red bean buns. That against the smell of cigarettes from the stumbled in hipsters exploring from Downtown LA. Instax cameras in hand. A reliable place where I can go to the same restaurant for what seems like the past 15 years and the menu will always be the same. Where my temptations to eat something with a weird, unpronounceable name and where my taste for all that is spicy, burning hot and tear-inducing can be thoroughly fulfilled. A place where I feel both a stranger but also just a regular. A place where I can enjoy with my eyes, ears, nose and fingertips the colors and curves and just be inspired by that.
Photos by me