A small, shabby town a few minutes walk from a large subway station is not a unique case in Hong Kong. I am always surprised by this type of places in a city where there is so much control over its scarce land.
Narrow, irregular streets, single- or double-storey dwellings, some made of concrete blocks and metal sheet, others just concrete or stone. Within the homogeneity of a decadent appearance, some houses try to outstand, some arches, a veranda... The interior space is reduced, but it extends to the outside by ropes to hung the clothes from side to side of the street, plastic chairs under a tree, a sink placed on the edge of the plot... The openness of village contrasts with the fences or razor wire that its existance within a big city demands.
Everytime I enter one of these complexes I feel as if I were crossing a place that I should not. These corners of the city make me think of a thriller movie about smuggling, or something like that, would be the ideal place.
