P H O T O E S S AY 圖 文 並 荗
UTOPIA 烏托邦
From the Greek ou (not) and topos (place), utopia literally means 'non-place'. Through this lens, Hong Kong is a utopia, a 'non-place' for asylum seekers. Home, too, is remote, indefinite – a utopia that might never be seen again. 「烏托邦」（ utopia）一詞是由希臘語的 ou（意：不是）和 topos（意：地方）兩個字組成，其字面意思為「不是 地方」。 在此鏡頭下，香港對於尋求庇護者也是一個烏托邦，一個「不是地方」。「家」，也是遙遠且不確定， 一個可能永遠不會重返的烏托邦。
Photography 攝影 Samuel Miller
I
am an invisible man. I am here, yet I am unseen. My days are spent in search of something, anything. They say that I am lazy, but they do not understand. All I ask is to be given the right to work, to be self-sufficient. Without this, I am nothing. A man without a job is a man without respect. The years are passing me by. Without a sense of purpose, I languish somewhere that is, in fact, nowhere. I live in a 2- by 3-metre room in a dilapidated building in Kowloon infested with rats and cockroaches, a place where the trash is never removed, and the murmurs of others echo day and night; the stairwells smell of urine and rotten food and the discarded materials of a hard city. For this privilege, my landlord demands money I do not owe – money I do not have, money I cannot earn. Home is a small country in Africa that exists only in my mind. I used to own a shop there until they burned it to the ground. My political activism was too dangerous for them and I have the scars to prove it. They destroyed everything. Now, I have nothing. I cannot stay nor can I return. But I beseech you: Do not pity me. Our large family house was filled with the sound of laughter and joy and a feeling of safety and love. We used to sit on the front porch in the cool evening breeze and look out to sea, contemplating the infinite possibilities that lay beyond. From time to time, I sit by the harbour in Hong Kong and look out to sea, searching in vain for a place I once knew.
134
ARIANA 2019
我
是一個隱形人。我在這裡，卻不被看見。 我每天都在尋找一些東西——不管是甚 麼。他們說我懶惰，但他們不明白。我只是 想獲得工作的權利，能夠自給自足，否則我甚麼都不 是。沒有工作的人是沒有尊嚴的。歲月也在我身邊漸 漸流逝。 沒有目標，我只是在一個地方苟延殘喘， 但其實，這裡根本不是一個地方。在九龍一幢破舊 的大廈裡，我住在一間六平方米的房間，與老鼠和 蟑螂為伍。那裡的垃圾從不清理，其他人的竊竊私 語日夜迴響；樓梯間裡有尿味，有食物的腐臭， 還有城市的廢物。享受這些「待遇」的代價， 就是被房東索取我從未欠下的錢——我沒有錢， 也掙不到錢。 「家」是非洲的一個小國，它只存在於我的腦 海中。我在那裡曾經擁有過一家店鋪，直至他們把 它燒成平地。我的政治主張對他們來說太危險了， 而我亦有傷疤作為印記。他們摧毀了一切，令我 一無所有。我不能留下，也不能返回。但我懇求 你們，不要可憐我。 從前，我家的大房子裡充滿歡聲笑語、愛與 安穩的感覺。我們常常坐在門廊上，迎著涼爽的 晚風眺望大海，思考著遠方的無限可能。現在， 我只能坐在香港的岸邊看海，徒勞地尋找那個 我曾經熟悉的地方。
