Condo Convos: 
the story does (not) begin or end here.



“I’m leaving,” she let it out.


I wasn’t surprised. Most of my friends are not born or raised in Hong Kong but found a temporary home here. Non-local, gang piao, expats, third culture kids, immigrants – not one label can encompass their diversity. What unites them is probably their state of floating across cultural and national boundaries, constantly navigating the treacherous waters of “belonging”.


Their experience forms a stark contrast to my own, having had the same address to return to all my life.


Since 2020, a time when many locals pondered the notion of “home”, I have been photographing these friends in their own apartments, over conversations about the city, cultures, our own lives… before they moved on. It was refreshing to see my home through the lens of “the Other”. Or perhaps I simply needed an excuse to say a long goodbye before their departure.


After photographing a dozen friends, I photographed my own parents who immigrated to Hong Kong from the mainland in the 1980s before we started renovating the home we’ve lived in since I was born. 


In the past few years, tens of thousands of Hong Kongers have decided or planned to emigrate. The story of movement goes on.

“I want to live in a hot country.”

“I’ve constantly asked myself ‘where am I from?’”

“I was diagnosed with depression at 15. I remember thinking ‘Everyone seems so happy around me. Why am I not?’ If I had stayed (in my hometown), I’d probably have married and have kids.”

“Would you like to keep a cat?” 


“I don’t feel ready to take care of another being. It’s too much hair.”

“Do you go home for Chinese New Year?” 


“I don’t necessarily go ‘home’. But I’d be with my family.”

“It’s not ‘I love you’ that Chinese shy away from saying. 


It’s ‘I am sorry’’’.

“I came to Hong Kong to perfect my Mandarin and learn a lot about China - my progress in both pursuits has been meager. But I think this lack of accomplishment reveals a greater truth - that I felt an obligation to do these things, but never really wanted to. I think a lot of Asian Americans have a fear of being “bad” Asians or not Asian enough... but I feel like I can accept myself more because of other events that made me more confident about my identity.”

While we were devouring Movenpick in her couch, she drew a chart about the correlation between physical distance and personal closeness with friends. I kept the chart.

When he visited the town he grew up in before he moved back for good, the fridge in his Shau Kei Wan apartment broke down and the frozen meat inside leaked out, creating a bloody, fetid pool that fed some happy flies. 


One month later, he left Hong Kong. It wasn’t because of the fridge.

I hadn’t seen her in a year. “Do you think I’ve changed?”

“This side was brighter.” 


I imagine she finally found the shore of Hong Kong after swimming for hours, leaving darkness behind.

I told him I have the irrational fear of losing my sight someday. 


“I’m the same, so that’s why I try to see as much as I can while I can.”


He is nearsighted with almost 10 diopters. 


“You have to take good care of your eyes.”

“Fill me in on life.”

Condo Convos: 
the story does (not) begin or end here.



“I’m leaving,” she let it out.


I wasn’t surprised. Most of my friends are not born or raised in Hong Kong but found a temporary home here. Non-local, gang piao, expats, third culture kids, immigrants – not one label can encompass their diversity. What unites them is probably their state of floating across cultural and national boundaries, constantly navigating the treacherous waters of “belonging”.


Their experience forms a stark contrast to my own, having had the same address to return to all my life.


Since 2020, a time when many locals pondered the notion of “home”, I have been photographing these friends in their own apartments, over conversations about the city, cultures, our own lives… before they moved on. It was refreshing to see my home through the lens of “the Other”. Or perhaps I simply needed an excuse to say a long goodbye before their departure.


After photographing a dozen friends, I photographed my own parents who immigrated to Hong Kong from the mainland in the 1980s before we started renovating the home we’ve lived in since I was born. 


In the past few years, tens of thousands of Hong Kongers have decided or planned to emigrate. The story of movement goes on.

“I want to live in a hot country.”

“I’ve constantly asked myself ‘where am I from?’”

“I was diagnosed with depression at 15. I remember thinking ‘Everyone seems so happy around me. Why am I not?’ If I had stayed (in my hometown), I’d probably have married and have kids.”

“Would you like to keep a cat?” 


“I don’t feel ready to take care of another being. It’s too much hair.”

“Do you go home for Chinese New Year?” 


“I don’t necessarily go ‘home’. But I’d be with my family.”

“It’s not ‘I love you’ that Chinese shy away from saying. 


It’s ‘I am sorry’’’.

“I came to Hong Kong to perfect my Mandarin and learn a lot about China - my progress in both pursuits has been meager. But I think this lack of accomplishment reveals a greater truth - that I felt an obligation to do these things, but never really wanted to. I think a lot of Asian Americans have a fear of being “bad” Asians or not Asian enough... but I feel like I can accept myself more because of other events that made me more confident about my identity.”

While we were devouring Movenpick in her couch, she drew a chart about the correlation between physical distance and personal closeness with friends. I kept the chart.

When he visited the town he grew up in before he moved back for good, the fridge in his Shau Kei Wan apartment broke down and the frozen meat inside leaked out, creating a bloody, fetid pool that fed some happy flies. 


One month later, he left Hong Kong. It wasn’t because of the fridge.

I hadn’t seen her in a year. “Do you think I’ve changed?”

“This side was brighter.” 


I imagine she finally found the shore of Hong Kong after swimming for hours, leaving darkness behind.

I told him I have the irrational fear of losing my sight someday. 


“I’m the same, so that’s why I try to see as much as I can while I can.”


He is nearsighted with almost 10 diopters. 


“You have to take good care of your eyes.”

“Fill me in on life.”

Using Format