Tam Kin-wai's home has a high ceiling. Unfortunately, the single room he occupies with his wife and 12-year-old son is higher than it is wide or long. At about 35 square feet, it has space for two wooden bunk beds fixed to the back wall, a small black-and-white television balanced precariously on a shelf and a little bedside table. Every inch of space in what feels more like a storage cupboard than a place of abode is piled high with clutter: clothes, chipped cups, bedding, an electric fan, a roll of white toilet paper. Guests can either stand just inside the doorway in the only vacant space, or (as I did) sit beside Mr Tam on the lower bunk bed.
譚建威（音譯）家的天花板很高。但不幸的是，這間單人房的長度或?qū)挾榷稼s不上它的高度，里面擠著他、太太和12歲的兒子。房間大約35平方英尺，后墻上固定著兩張雙層木床，一臺不大的黑白電視機搖搖欲墜地擺在架子上，還有一個小小的床頭柜。整個房間讓人感覺更像是一個儲藏室，而非住所，堆滿了雜七雜八的東西：衣服、缺了口的杯子、被褥、一臺電扇、一卷白手紙。來客要么緊貼著門站著——這也是屋里唯一沒有使用的空間——要么（像我一樣）挨著譚建威坐在雙層床的下鋪。