Sometimes I have the feeling that the city I live in isn't in fact the city I've always known. This sensation comes often with a slight nostalgia or longing for something that I can't quite explain.

I can't help but to think that there are corners of Panama City that are as unknown to me as countries I've never visited. I immediately ask myself : "who are all these people and where did they come from? How is it that we share a common place, yet have nothing to do with one another?".

In an effort to clarify this to myself, I go for long walks. And not really knowing where I'm headed, I end up  understanding my city more after every urban exploration. In the end, a place doesn't come to life unless you have a story to tell about it. These stories, however insignificant or transcendental, establish a link between who we think we are and the role we play in the specific time and moment we are living.

Anyway, here are some stories I came across with on my last walk around town.

Home.

Structures.

Empty corridors of Eusebio Morales library.

Tuesdays are bingo days at the library.

Decay.

Cats at Fonda doña Lola. There are so many and they usually get beaten by the people from this area, but the cooks of  Fonda doña Lola feed and protect them.

Fonda doña Lola.

Fonda Petter.

I see you.

Tipico dance rehearsal.

Panama City China Town.