2020 was a year-long exercise of resolutions in the face of consistent adversity. Soundtracking farewells spanning several months, we said goodbye to the characters we grew to love, the harsh grit of the city, and ourselves.
The flowerman downstairs who rarely fails to wish us a good morning every morning in the four years we were there. The culture pals we saw at every festival, led by asian Dora the Explorer. French Jesus and his insatiable appetite to keep live music accessible in the city. A crew that doesn’t know how to say yeah, nah. The jovial filos. The goth. Central plastic bag lady. The Boundary St fuckboy. A best mate made from a Facebook marketplace sale. And many, many, many more beautiful characters.
Thank you for taking care of us and showing us around. 深水埗 will always be a spiritual second home, in chaos and in harmony. Despite how prolific it is globally, there is something in the water in Hong Kong that makes dim sum there the original, and the best. And the complex history and situation that Hong Kongers have found themselves in that has shaped their sense of pathos and defined the way they carry themselves day in, day out. It’s sad and pretty amazing at the same time.
We’re immensely humbled by our experiences, both the great and the ugly, and can say with pride and gratitude that “we were there.”