Had a discussion with a friend of mine about photography and how we use it to interpret what we experience. I told him that very often when I arrive in a city it overwhelms me and to begin with everywhere I point my camera seems to be the wrong place. I said it takes time to slip into the rhythm of a city, to feel its pulse beat in time with mine and then it just becomes instinctive.
Bangkok was like that. An assault on the senses. The smell of petrol fumes fused with lemongrass. The neon and fresh fruit stalls. The hum of the constant traffic. The swell and sway of people always on the move. The welcoming smile and the 100-mile gaze.
At every turn there was something which got my attention; something which I had to capture in a frame.
I had not visited the red light district on my last visit to Bangkok, but this time we were brought on a little tour by a Japanese friend.
Impossible to compute it all. The luxury of photography allows time to reflect.
Let the camera see.
The slow rhythm of patience
