As I sit in a public library, regrouping from 8 months of traveling and shooting full time, I found these images from Yangon, Myanmar, hiding in the depths of my backup hard drive. When I wasn’t bedridden in a YMCA with dengue fever, Yangon was an interesting place to be. Much more Indian in character than southeast Asian (in my opinion anyways), Yangon was surprisingly different than I had been expecting.
I thought I’d share these images before I get back to posting my Tibetan refugee story lest they get lost forever in the digital mess that is my archives.

Powerlines in Yangon are often lined with crows; for some reason the city has an unusually high number of the birds.

A man rides his bicycle through central Yangon. Motorcycles are not allowed in the city because of a failed drive-by assassination attempt on the life of a political figure -resulting in a permanent ban on the vehicles.

A group of young men drive an old tractor through Dawbon, a slum along the bank of the Yangon (Hlaing) River.

A teenager stands in the doorway of a metal working shop in South Dagon, an outlying suburb of Yangon.