I noticed a small alleyway almost right across the road from my guesthouse. There were a few soldiers stationed there. I was curious, and walked over. They paid little attention to me as I passed. The alleyway opened up almost immediately. There was a building in ruins, a monastery I later learnt, bombed during the cultural revolution. A chained dog, ripped and worn prayer flags, a few playing children. I took a few photographs in the twilight. This was what was left of old Lhasa. I'm sure in a years time it would be rebuilt as a tourist site. Brush the past under the rug like it never happened. (image by Ryan Gauvin)
I noticed a small alleyway almost right across the road from my guesthouse. There were a few soldiers stationed there. I was curious, and walked over. They paid little attention to me as I passed. The alleyway opened up almost immediately. There was a building in ruins, a monastery I later learnt, bombed during the cultural revolution. A chained dog, ripped and worn prayer flags, a few playing children. I took a few photographs in the twilight. This was what was left of old Lhasa. I'm sure in a years time it would be rebuilt as a tourist site. Brush the past under the rug like it never happened.
©Ryan Gauvin
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