Every frame on the streets of Lhasa feels like it’s been filtered with vintage film

The starting point of the self-driving Sichuan West route is a visual feast given by Lhasa, with the warmth of prayer wheels in the wind, sunlight soaking through the lens, and the shadows of pedestrians on Barkhor Street colliding with white walls to create a sense of story. The red walls of the Potala Palace stand eternal at the foot of the mountain, Even the snowy mountains on the postal postcards are wrapped in the plateau wind; In the "Auspicious Opening of All Phenomena" exhibition, I touched the pulse of Tibetan culture (The last painting of Mount Everest was a “snow mountain dream” secretly kept in the exhibition hall 🏔️) It turns out that the romance of Lhasa is a blend of everyday life and faith ✨