Dhaka traffic is slow. A slowness which allows the contemplation of the unstable cityscape of the road: ever-changing impromptu architecture, shiny sheet metal and convex glass, reflective and transparent, distorting and deceptive, juxtapositions of vehicles, hawkers, passers-by, and urban landscape. The world seems partly hidden behind a looking glass, a maze of reflections and transparencies, not quite a place, not quite nowhere. There is only the road, the transit, the strangers we know nothing of as we are caught in the frictions of the growing megacity’s impossible infra-structure.
