When I was a child, travel was a luxury; an expense my family could only afford once in a blue moon. Even then, our trips were typically local. I grew up in Seattle, so our vacations consisted of roadtripping through the rural plains of Eastern Washington or driving down to Oregon to visit extended family.

That changed once I went to college, where I was required to complete a full year of a foreign language. I chose Arabic: a decision that was largely driven by my interest in the Middle East but in no small part by how beautiful the script looked to me. Though that course election felt inconsequential at the time, it would later open up an entire world.

I studied abroad in Rabat, the capital city of Morocco. That summer, I found myself wandering the city’s sun-streaked, sandstone-lined maze, completely out of my element for perhaps the first time in my life. I lived there for three short months, and outside of daily Arabic classes, I had all the agency in the world. I could traipse through the market to my heart’s content, get lost in the chaos and come out the other side, hail a petit taxi and speed off to who knows where. I was a fish out of water, breathing in all the oxygen I could muster.

• • •

Travel shows me who I want to be.

In 2018, I spent the summer working at an NGO in Shanghai. I was born in China and lived there until I moved to the US at the age of 1 — that summer was the first time I spent an extended period of time in China as an adult.

It was a period of great reckoning in my personal life. I was reeling from a breakup and trying to put the pieces back together. I felt as though I had no idea who I was anymore. Rocking back and forth in my tiny, university-funded studio in the French Concession, I did everything I could to numb the pain. I buried myself in my work. Went on hours-long walks to nowhere. Redownloaded the apps. Closed my eyes in the face of it all.

But somewhere, somehow, a foundation began to crystallize. Before I knew it, I was reassembling my sense of self. I felt the overwhelming urge to give my life direction once more. I found myself in the faces of the people I passed by on my morning commute. I sketched out my wildest dreams at the base of the Huangpu River, sat in coffee shops and watched the world go by. Befriended the strangers I met in line at the supermarket, on the street, at the club. I danced: not to bury my emotions this time, but to understand them.

In Shanghai, I blossomed, unfolded, and came back to myself.

Makisa Bronson is a Chinese-born, New York-based brand strategist, graphic designer, and copywriter. She freelances out of her branding & creative studio, Studio Li, and co-curates The East Asian Graphics Archive in her free time.

Written by Makisa Bronson | Media provided by The East Asian Graphics Archive

Unfolded | Makisa Bronson

Tilt | Martin van Wunnik