To me, Hong Kong is like a coin that never turns over. On the bright side of modernity, which is also the Hong Kong I had witnessed since I arrived, politics, trade and capital never sleep in the world’s most flourishing city. Yet on the dark side, a conservative civil life filled with family ethics, myth and traditional rituals. Not until last Saturday I climbing up a long stair road to reach for an old temple, Man Mo Temple, did the traditional side of the city finally unfold itself in front of me.
If you stay long enough to wait, you can always run into a person with an embedded story. That’s how I met the old lady. It was about 3P.M. in the afternoon. I finished the first few shootings and rested in a tree shadow, drinking coffee. Suddenly the old lady jumped into my eye. She was wearing a yellow striped T-shirt and a washed-up polka bots backpack. Her brow furrowed and her back stooped, her steps moved fast as if being pushed. What drove her here? Why so anxious? It’s Saturday afternoon, why not slowing up a little bit? Before I knew it, I took my camera out again, finished my coffee, and followed the old lady. Just Before I crossed the road and stood at the gate of Man Mo Temple again, the old lady came out with incense in her hands, and then immediately fall to her knees.
Tags: Man Mo Temple