This Isn’t a Love Letter to Hong Kong (… but It Could’ve Been.)

After 1.5 years in Vietnam, I thought I’d gotten used to cities that move fast.

But Hong Kong hit differently.

Every corner feels like a freeze from a film you want to linger in—just a little longer.

It’s dense, cinematic, somehow cold and nostalgic at the same time.

A place that feels like it’s always in motion, even when you’re standing still.

I stayed in Sheung Wan, right off Hollywood Road.
And every day, I walked.
No agenda, no destination—just to absorb.

What kept catching my eye weren’t the glass towers or the architectural stunts of newer Asia, but the in-between buildings.

Mid-century walk-ups with stacked air conditioners poking out like tired lungs, washed in faded pastels: Mint green, salmon pink, dusty lavender.

They were never meant to be Instagrammable. But with narrow streets, hanging laundry, and candy-colored walls, they carry a soft brutalist charm—like a film set no one packed up.

The colors probably started bolder in the ’60s or ’70s, now sun-faded into something quieter, almost accidental—but undeniably beautiful.

These buildings didn’t survive because someone preserved them. They just kept existing.

Then came the taxis. The red, boxy ones that feel like moving set props.

Apparently, they’re still imported used from Japan just to keep the look consistent.

That says a lot about how Hong Kong sees itself—modern, but never fully letting go of its texture.

Even the typography: clean sans-serifs clashing with hand-painted Cantonese signs—feels more confident than most 2025 rebrands.

It reminded me why I’m so drawn to contrast in creative direction:

Old vs. New. Analog vs. Digital. East vs. West.

Cities like Hong Kong don’t just show it—they embody it.

So no, I didn’t do much sightseeing.

I just looked. A lot.

And it reminded me how much I love cities that surprise you—visually, emotionally, structurally.

Especially when they’re not even trying to.

After Saigon, where life often tumbles toward you in motorbike flurries and open smiles, Hong Kong felt introspective.

And a lot more vertical.

I didn’t plan to fall in love with it. But I kind of did.

And I think I’ll keep chasing that feeling—of being gently overwhelmed by a city that has nothing to prove, but everything to show.

Maybe that’s the point. To create work that feels like something you saw once (in a city) you couldn’t forget.

My Van