Writers are just people who have a whole lot on the inside that they need to get to the outside,
with pen and paper as their preferred method of transport. Same with dancers, artists,
and singers – all the same urges with differing transportation.
I don’t drive in China. I have a strong sense of self-preservation. On this particular road trip, I let my dad do all the vehicular hard-lifting. Which worked out, because I like to sit with a camera in my hand, looking for moments.
Everyone is moved (fascinated/tickled/interested/disgusted/intrigued/nauseated/flummoxed/etc) by different things. Everyone is captured by different moments. But you know ‘em when you see ‘em: split-second, impossible to duplicate, sometimes just as difficult to remember.
Pictures aren’t the same as life, but they’re the best method I’ve got for retaining those flashes. Here are some of the scenes from the drive to my grandmother’s hometown (the first picture is from a street concert where the woman was singing traditional folk songs…she had a great voice).