Written by Giuliano Bolivar

If Louis Vuitton were to sell small doses of escapist dreams in tiny LV-monogram boxes, God knows I would’ve been a long time ago lining-up around the corner (real China style) to get me some.

I might as well try to convince you to think this is beautiful, but why not escape on your own for 2 minutes to Hong Kong island and come to that conclusion yourself?

If the experience does not pleases your imagination, you can bring your box back.

Last day…

younger than Shanghai

the Lady,

this city breathes a woman’s sophistication.

When Hong Kong is a woman.

She stands in emancipation.

Fans her lashes, highlights her lines, clasping her silver handbag under a coat of grey.

…dismantles an entire truth.

Hong Kong, a woman of contrast, the districts flash with a compressed rythym

the pathways unravel time’s passing.

A glowing fuse 

the ladies are reveries

for wanderlust.

Her contenders trail into her heart.

The sun sets.

Approaching night’s fall, and she undoes her hair, allowing a pause along the journey.

Hong Kong whispers a quiet melancholy, echoing a delicate magneticism.

She plays the mirage of a seductive glance.

From her vertical frames, she mesmerizes guests through a gateway to her Motherland.

The voyager vanishes embraced by the labyrinth.

Until dawn break she is a charmer, a keeper, a romantic in hiding.

Miss Hong Kong holds 

my eternal fascination