The hems, or alleys, of Ho Chi Minh City are bouquets of light and shadow, twisting at surprising angles, holding a bevy of scenes and stories. Here isn’t the proverbial underbelly of the city; the floors are generally clean and people go about their daily business with quiet intent.
The hem is the space between lines, subtext, subtle text, substrata of gentrified neighbourhoods. Far from the constant tides of motorcycles and the incessant heat, the temperature in the hem drops by two degrees, if not more.
And life slows down.
In pictures, here are moments of a gentler life, one that’s quickly being forgotten as Ho Chi Minh City rushes inevitably onwards.
