I came to Chinatown with a camera and no plan, which is usually the only plan that works here. The street in front of me opened like a narrow canyon of brick and signage, the buildings tall enough to squeeze the sky into a pale strip overhead. Fire escapes crisscrossed the façades in black metal diagonals, ladders folded up like punctuation marks, while strings of bare bulbs stretched from side to side, unlit for now but already sketching the night that would come later.

Tech events are usually described in terms of scale, innovation, product launches, big screens, louder slogans. From a photographer’s point of view, though, that surface layer fades fast. What actually carries the story is quieter and more human, and often happens half a step away from the stage lights. The image here comes from a busy exhibition floor, the kind where conversations overlap and attention is constantly pulled in different directions.

Bird photography has a reputation for being gear-hungry, almost elitist, as if meaningful images only happen beyond the 500mm mark with lenses that cost more than a small car. The Canon RF 100–400mm f/5.6–8 IS USM quietly pushes back against that idea. This image of urban parakeets after rain is a good example of what affordable reach can actually deliver when expectations are realistic and observation matters more than specs. From a respectful distance, the lens allows you to frame behavior rather than just presence, isolating the birds against a pale winter sky while keeping the scene calm and undisturbed.

This photograph is the kind that only really makes sense when you’ve spent a bit too much time thinking about focal lengths, compression, and why 200mm is such a strangely addictive number. Shot with the Canon EF 200mm f/2.8L II USM, the image pulls Manhattan’s skyline tight, stacking decades of architecture into a single dense plane where old limestone crowns press against glassy new towers, all of it hovering above that long, stubborn band of brick housing blocks along the river.

Every February, Yokohama quietly turns into the center of gravity for the global imaging world, and in 2026 it will happen again when the CP+ Camera & Photo Imaging Show opens its doors at Pacifico Yokohama from Thursday, February 26 through Sunday, March 1. CP+ is not just another camera fair, it’s one of those rare events where the entire ecosystem of photography and imaging technology gathers in one place, from the biggest Japanese manufacturers to niche accessory makers, software companies, printers, and experimental imaging startups.

This is the kind of place where photography becomes less about hunting and more about listening, and you feel it the moment you step onto the rock. The surface is slick, uneven, reflective in small unpredictable patches, forcing you to slow your stance, and that physical hesitation feeds directly into how you see. The light is flat, overcast, almost blank, but not empty — it’s soft enough to erase harsh edges and pull everything into the same quiet tone, which means composition suddenly matters more than light itself.

Cybertech 2026 was one of those events that immediately tells you how you need to work the moment you step inside. The entrance hall alone was already buzzing, people clustering in small circles, badges swinging, phones out, last-minute messages being checked before heading into the exhibition and main stage. That first image I shot, the one with the big Cybertech Global Tel Aviv 2026 sign hanging above the crowd, is basically the whole story in one frame: movement, anticipation, business, nerves, and just a hint of chaos.