Chengdu doesn’t sleep. It slows, maybe. It hums at 2 a.m. instead of pulses. But even then, the city holds light in strange places—reflected in glass, flickering across alleyways, curling up from late-night noodle stalls. And then there’s the river.
The Jin River cuts through the modern sprawl like a quiet memory. And there, spanning its width, is the Anshun Bridge—first built during the Yuan Dynasty, later rebuilt in the 1990s after flood damage, but still standing as one of Chengdu’s most iconic symbols. It’s more than a crossing—it’s a reminder of balance: structure over water, old amid new, permanence in a city that reinvents itself constantly.
I waited near the far bank, watching the bridge light up in gold as the sun dropped. Reflections like this don’t last long—just a moment where the wind dies down, the water flattens, and the surface becomes glass. I framed it tightly—not the skyline, not the foot traffic—just the symmetry, the balance of calm and current. The photograph came together in one breath, and then the ripples returned.
This image isn’t about Chengdu’s energy. It’s about the one second it holds still.
🖼️ This moment is available as a signed fine art print—view the full piece on dankosmayer.com
