I took a camera to work today. Hong Kong is eerily, eerily strange. In the city, there in its working heart, it feels like looking at a human skeleton: something simultaneously grim and fascinating, and reminding of frailties. It's also suddenly structural, with the flesh of its relentless busyness boiled off by these invisible vapors of a real threat confronting the collective mind: everyone is masked into anonymity; extras in a medical movie ... and so movie-like it is.
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| Streets so silent in Central |
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| Central Station platform, space and lines. |
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| Central Station itself, beam me up Scotty (I have never before noticed those circle-arranged screens). |
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| The near empty veins of the escalators; beautiful in a hyper-urban way, their Escher-like painted turquoise top corner. |
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| A sprinkling of masked pedestrians, on what is usually a heaving corner. |
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| And then the office itself, mute phones, matt-black monitors. |
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