Consider The Lobster

 Ramen

The long and winding road An odd beatles’ song and sadly listed as one of the reasons why McCartney decided to quit (among other reasons). I took the photo as we stopped to snap scenic landscape photos on the way down from mountains in Tai-Chung. I imagined the song in my head as I walked down the (steep) mountain path.  The long and winding road that leads to your door, Will never disappear, Ive seen that road before It always leads me here, leads me to your door. The wild and windy night that the rain washed away, Has left a pool of tears crying for the day. Why leave me standing here, let me know the way. Many times Ive been alone and many times Ive cried, Anyway you’ll never know the many ways Ive tried, but Still they lead me back to the long and winding road, You left me standing here a long, long time ago. Dont leave me waiting here, lead me to your door. Da da, da da

In motion All part of the plan. The teenager, who we coerced into taking the photo(s), was too shy to say no. When I was his age, I spent a whole summer volunteering as a guide at the national palace museum. Somehow, sprinting and jumping across the expansive courtyard transported me back ten years. 

When you were young My grandparents have a propensity for falling asleep anywhere briefly, before startling themselves awake: whether it may be a park bench, the subway or the line at the grocery market. We were heading back from Danshui and I thought it hilarious to snap a photo of another aged man wearing the exact same attire as gramps, down to the white polo, khaki shorts and black leather loafers with ill-fitting dress socks. 

Zerg Horde  The western stereotype that asian cultures lack a concept of personal space has been greatly exaggerated. Even a fleeting example will do: everyone lines up neatly for the subway—the right lane for those too lazy, too tired or too old to climb, the left for those with purpose and nimble feet—without the jostling, groping, hustling commonly portrayed as intrinsic to life in an asian community. 

Sometimes nothing is better than chinese food To be honest, these xiao long bao were probably the worst I’ve ever had. But, after a night of shooting the night sky, it didn’t really matter. I had such bad altitude sickness that if I smelled scrambled eggs I probably would’ve puked. 

Dog Days I walk past this dog every single day on the way back to my grandparent’s house, unfailingly sitting on top of this dingy blue chair, staring at the same intersection occasionally overfilled with motorists but more often than not occupied by lingering, circular shuffles of aging retirees left with nothing to do.