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.
谭建威（音译）家的天花板很高。但不幸的是，这间单人房的长度或宽度都赶不上它的高度，里面挤着他、太太和12岁的儿子。房间大约35平方英尺，后墙上固定着两张双层木床，一台不大的黑白电视机摇摇欲坠地摆在架子上，还有一个小小的床头柜。整个房间让人感觉更像是一个储藏室，而非住所，堆满了杂七杂八的东西：衣服、缺了口的杯子、被褥、一台电扇、一卷白手纸。来客要么紧贴着门站着——这也是屋里唯一没有使用的空间——要么（像我一样）挨着谭建威坐在双层床的下铺。