Far from taking part in navigating the pitching of Molotov cocktails in the direction of a sacrament long overdue, in light of Hong Kong protests, also known as the Anti-Extradition Law Amendment Bill, the ongoing series of demonstrations in Hong Kong which were triggered by the introduction of the Fugitive Offenders amendment, in affect Chinese rule of which would undermine the region's autonomy and civil liberties, the protests itself had come to London's Chinatown.
The idea, was to spend the damp Saturday in question, strolling London's West End landscape in the hope that poignant imagery might catch both my eyes. And the weather, I hoped, would set the scene, as it was the day was windy with gusto, there was persistent drizzle, it’s early autumn, to all intents and purposes the day was a moody occasion, and yet, with the aesthetic tenor of tourists and their varied dialects as busy as a spring evening would be.
As a photographer, London's West End offers me an insight into the global mood, and by simply mingling with tourists, who comprise of different languages, customs, perpendiculars and different ways to greet and bid goodbye, it's their enthusiasms, their quirks, their fascination with a City they’ve flown miles to visit.
Cometh the global mood, and mooching through Chinatown picketed voices could be heard getting closer, and before I could clearly make out the cause the protest was bearing down on me, in and instant offering itself as the insight I'd hope to stumble on.
Immediately the reason, relentlessness, and unity of purpose was apparent, with colourful banners and picket signs, and face masking identities strangely making everybody marching look the same, with verve, and colour, and dark attire the mood of Hong Kong was vocally intent on being heard in London's Chinatown.
Somewhat informed on Hong Kong and China relations, it was fair to surmise that London's Chinatown was an act of defiance, but importantly an act of solidarity, as if to determinedly imply that Hong Kong citizens, no matter where they be will stand with their fellow Hong Kongnese.
Needless to say the insight into the global mood was defiant, and loud, their solidarity was suggestively solidified, and away from movement of their march, it reminded me about the remembrance of gifts and voices, the elemental verbs that set the noun and dash of consciousness, enabling a timed possession to move to the rhythm of actualisation, thus the march, for what it represented; the idea is not to regurgitate the syntax and measure of poor human prose, with archaic narratives running alongside contemporary parallels, it's fair to say the march acutely resonated a global mood, and yet with little or contrived power, people, for what they stand for and believe in, willing to influence change, alas, imagery to die for.
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