Light is the visual language of Hong Kong. A city whose neon culture bloomed from the unity of competitive business with the art of the sign-maker.
The glowing tubes that fill districts like Yau Ma Tei and Mong Kok are a mesmerising abstraction for anyone who doesn’t read Cantonese, and a familiar preservation of street heritage for the locals (though one that’s under threat).
It’s a city with more skyscrapers than any other on earth (more than Tokyo and Shanghai combined), sprouting from its core like a flickering steel forest that stretches towards the sun.
A city where tropical daylight bathes the streets in a languid haze, and streams through spiral incense coils that hang from the ceilings of Tin Hau temples.