TagPhoto Essay

The day was April 26, 1980. My fifth visit to China was already more than half complete. We drove from the city of Guilin to a village called Yangdi and then walked for a while along a narrow path through a bamboo forest to a pier on the shore of the Li River. … In

The Renaissance was Europe’s youthful period. It embodied all the splendor and sadness of youth. And the center of this Renaissance was Florence—city of youth. … I visited Michelangelo Square in May 1994. It was the day after I had arrived in Italy, the country of light, from Germany, the land of Goethe, and had

May is a golden season in Britain, where winter is long. March and April are not yet fully spring. It is May when days grow long and warm. The English expression “March winds and April showers bring May flowers” well describes this transition. … May is a month of youth; it is a time for

In the constant flux of human history, power is an illusion. So are gold, fame and even blood ties. Only through the legacy of mentor and disciple is an eternal history born, leaving the names of ordinary people to shine for 10,000 generations and more. My mentor loved castles. Therefore, he named himself Jogai, which

I looked toward Mount Halla, a mysterious peak. It seemed as though the spirits of all living beings in the universe had gathered to form it. Holding a quiet dialogue with the heavens, this mountain, like a great loving mother, seemed to embrace all the immense joys of life, as well as the anguished cries

Motionless on the lotus bud, a red dragonfly rested its wings. Perfect stillness. I clicked my shutter five times, and still it did not move. Perhaps it was entranced by the shimmering of the water’s surface; or perhaps its wings, exhausted from flight, had not yet recovered; or could it have been waiting for the

The day was June 20, 1991. I had arrived in the early evening the day before from sun-drenched Trets in the south of France. … A downtown hotel room was my base for the day’s activities. I left and entered the room many times, and whenever I returned, I went to the window and looked

The Chinese character for waterfall is made from combining the characters for “water” and “dragon.” Like tens of thousands of writhing water dragons, the over-whelming, powerful Niagara Falls seems to tear at heaven and earth with explosive force. Like this king of waterfalls, people should live their lives as kings and queens— Like the waterfall,

To the moon I call out: “Oh, god of the moon! May you watch over my friends around the world for another night! Gently illuminate the footsteps of those who walk our noble path! Please give comfort to the hearts of all those who are suffering.” With this thought, I snap the shutter. I want

The sea shimmered and smiled in the sunlight. I had just flown from and returned to Hong Kong after a trip from there to Nepal and Singapore. It was January 1995. “The Pearl of the Orient” greeted me with her exquisite smile. … Hong Kong is not a place for sentimentality—there is no time for

I had only a few seconds to get the shot. The day was November 3, 1995. … These sublime, noble peaks were just as I had imagined them. As my heart filled with awe and appreciation, I raised my camera and snapped the shutter six, maybe seven, times. These mountains seem alive—breathing. Behind these mountains

Looking up I see sunlight glimmering through the leaves. The trees of Oirase stand like venerable, wise persons. Gazing upward from the streambed where I stand, I see deep-green leaves of August, filled with life, extending from treetops and branches toward small patches of blue sky. Nothing is more deserving of praise than a tree

In June 1989, I flew from England to Sweden. The capital, Stockholm, is often called the “Venice of the North.” It is also known as the “City That Floats on the Water” and has a harbor that extends into its center. This city is built upon 14 islands linked by bridges and is crisscrossed by

There is a pond that each spring turns into a flowered mirror. Cherry blossoms scatter petal by petal, wafting gently onto the water’s surface like delicately scented silk scarves. To the koi carp in the pond, the fluttering petals must look like clouds billowing across the sky. Such musings made me think the pink petals

The day was June 17, 1992, the time, past 3 o’clock in the afternoon. We were 8 miles from Cairo, a city of 10 million. Driving through the city along the west bank of the Nile, one suddenly finds oneself in the desert. Ahead, atop a plateau, stand the three pyramids of Giza. It was

“Enjoy!” This is the Aloha spirit. My eyes are drawn and riveted to a particular spot on the beach. There, from the sand, emerges the figure of a white horse. Who sculpted it? It seems as if it would gallop gracefully away at any moment. I bow with respect and appreciation to the nameless beach

It was already late in the afternoon, but at that time of the year the European sky remains light until quite late. But suddenly the sky darkened with clouds, and heavy rain began to fall. It tapped on the rooftops with a thousand fingers, like a pianist playing a lively sonata. It fell like curtains

November 3, 1995. I had just received an honorary doctorate of letters from Nepal’s Tribhuvan University. After the ceremony, we headed away from the city to a hilltop from which I could get a good picture of the Himalayas. … Just as our car pulled up, a young girl, her back laden with rice straw,

A single road, stretching limitlessly. If we follow that single road, that single path, it will link us to the land. And beyond the broad expanse of the land, it will link us to the world as well. If we never stop walking ahead step by step along the correct path in life, then the