Hundred Flowers
March 8th, 6:00 AM, the morning was rough—only three hours of sleep. A quick shower, a few rolls of HP5 tossed into my bag, and my small flash, just in case. I grabbed my Leica MP, picked up an energy drink from a corner store, and set off toward the city center.
The Grab driver dropped me near the Saigon Opera House. The parade routes were already closed off, the streets buzzing with anticipation. It was 7:45 AM, and the morning light was still kind—long shadows stretched across the pavement, buildings shielding the crowds from the rising sun. People stood in clusters, dressed in vibrant costumes, their faces painted with precision, ready to bring the day to life.
I started shooting. The hats, the backlit faces—it was tricky. I reached for my flash, not just to lift the shadows but also to experiment: ISO 400, harsh daylight, and artificial light—how would it play out?
Then, the parade began. Movement unfolded in waves, each group marching forward, pausing for photos, careful not to overlap their own procession. I started at a distance, counting my flash cycles, gauging its reach. Then, step by step, I moved in closer.
At first, the formations felt rigid, predictable. Lines of marchers, orderly and rehearsed—not quite what I was searching for. The colours were undoubtedly dazzling, the makeup striking, but I was shooting in black and white. I needed character.
Then, as the procession ended, the atmosphere shifted. The performers relaxed, the staged grandeur melting into something more raw and spontaneous. This was it. I got closer. Closer. Adjusted the flash. Click. Adjusted again. Click.
An hour in, I noticed the flash losing power. I ducked into the nearest store for AAA batteries—one of the perks of this tiny Godox im30 flash, running on everyday power sources.
By the time I'd burned through a couple of rolls, the sun was directly overhead. Noon. Time for a cold drink, a quiet corner, and a moment in the shade. I exhaled. The chase was over.
