The alleys of the Kowloon Walled City are so narrow that two people have to turn sideways to pass each other. Dripping shirts are hung on the bamboos above their heads, covering most of the sky. There is always a lingering salty smell in the air, mixed with the smell of cooking fumes from food stalls and the smell of sour water from sewers. After smelling it, I feel at ease - this is the place where I grew up.
