Hold Still, Hong Kong: everyday life shot on film

In Hong Kong, the past rarely gets a proper goodbye.

One day a shop is there, the next it's behind a metal shutter. A building disappears, a street changes its name, and life carries on as though nothing happened. This is a city that has always been better at moving forward than looking back.

Few places carry so much history in so little space. From a colonial trading port to an industrial powerhouse, through the 1997 handover and the decades since, Hong Kong has been shaped by generations of people arriving, leaving, building, and beginning again. Its contradictions are everywhere: extraordinary wealth alongside ordinary struggle, old traditions beneath new towers, a fierce sense of identity in a place that never quite stops reinventing itself.

For more than a decade, I've returned to these streets with a film camera. Not to document the changes, but to capture something harder to explain. The feeling of being somewhere that is both familiar and fleeting. A city whose character lives not in its landmarks, but in the countless ordinary lives unfolding between them.

Some of what I photographed is gone now. Other things remain, perhaps for another year, perhaps for another generation. And somewhere along the way, these pictures became less about what I saw and more about what I didn't know I would miss.

Time does something strange to photographs. What once seemed ordinary becomes irreplaceable.

Hong Kong has never been particularly sentimental about its past.

Perhaps that's why I am.

A Star Ferry docked at the pier with the Hong Kong Island skyline in mist behind it

Chapter one

過海

Across the water The Star Ferry and Victoria Harbour

Kowloon on one side, the Island on the other, and the green and white Star Ferries going back and forth between them across Victoria Harbour. The harbour was here before the towers. Start there.

The Central skyline and Victoria Harbour on a clear day, seen from a high viewpoint — **Central, the harbour, Kowloon beyond.** On a clear day the whole city shows up at once, as if it had nothing to hide.

Victoria Harbour in haze with a red-sailed junk and ferries crossing — **More often it looks like this.** A red-sailed junk crosses anyway, an old shape that refuses to leave.

The crossing takes a few minutes, and for those few minutes the rush stops. The benches on the Star Ferry have reversible backrests, so you always face the way you are going.

Men at the edge of a pier, one fishing, with the skyline across the harbour in front of them — Men fishing off the pier. The whole skyline in front of them, and they are watching their lines.

Hong Kong has a reputation for never waiting. Nobody has told these men.

A coffee cup on a glass desk, the skyline and clouds reflected in the glass — **One cup, two skylines.** The city gets into everything, even a glass desk.

A fruit stall under red lamps with a woman and a shopping trolley in front

Chapter two

街市

Still here The wet markets

Prices are written by hand and argued over in person. Plastic stools on the pavement, trolleys between the crates. Supermarkets exist. People still come here.

A fruit stall under warm lamps with a man walking past on the pavement — Under the warm bulbs, every orange looks like the best orange you have ever seen. That is the idea.

A woman in a pink sweatshirt sitting on a stool at a stall of hair clips and trinkets — A plastic stool, a pink sweatshirt, a wall of hair clips, flowers next door. She has settled in.

Under the lamp, everything looks fresh.

新鮮

Contact sheet · the butchersSwipe ⟶

A butcher shop under red lights with a traffic cone on the corner — Red light over raw meat. Nobody is fooled, and nobody minds.

A woman in an apron at a butcher stall with cuts of meat hanging from hooks — Meat on hooks, worn counters, a scale, and a conversation that matters more than any of them.

Butchers working at an open stall on a narrow pavement, a pink bucket in front — A pink bucket, a pale apron, the day's work hanging above the pavement.

A shop under red lamps with stacked egg trays and crates on the pavement — Eggs by the tray, lamps hung low, the whole shop spilling onto the street. The street is where the customers are.

A man blurred in motion walking past a vegetable stall — Someone always walks through the frame. Here, the person walking through is the photograph.

A busy market street with a cat sitting beside the crates — Everyone on this street is working. Except the cat.

A fruit stall under a yellow sign with an older man in a dark jacket — An old man inspecting fruit as if it owes him money.

A Sheung Wan street lined with herbal and dried goods shops under awnings — **Sheung Wan.** Herbs, dried goods, and awnings that have seen a lot of weather.

A lane of market stalls under red and white awnings — A lane of stalls and awnings, caught between customers.

Shoppers crowded around a vegetable stall under a green awning — **The greens stall.** Masks, handbags, a trolley, small negotiations all at once. An ordinary day, and the only one exactly like it.

A steep, narrow stairway between buildings, people climbing up and coming down

Chapter three

上落

Up and down Stairs, footbridges and bamboo scaffolding

Hong Kong is not flat. Streets turn into staircases, staircases into alleys, and alleys run out under walkways a storey above the ground. You learn to read the slope with your calves.

A bicycle with a basket parked near the foot of a flight of stairs under a footbridge — A bicycle at the foot of the stairs. The bicycle of an optimist.

A family walking down stone steps towards an old granite archway — Old granite, and a family walking down towards it. They do not look up. It is just the way through.

The city is mostly new, but here and there the old stone shows through: a wall, a set of steps, an arch somebody built long ago that still does its job.

An older worker pushing a trolley across a road in front of a building wrapped in bamboo scaffolding — **Bamboo scaffolding,** tied by hand, knot by knot. Below it, someone pushes a trolley across the road as if the building were not there.

An alley of outdoor tables under green awnings with a covered footbridge above — Tables under a green awning, a footbridge overhead. Two cities, one on top of the other.

A shop hung with red lanterns, a bicycle with a yellow raincoat over it parked in front — Lanterns for sale, and a bicycle in a yellow raincoat, waiting for its owner.

Two workers pushing a trolley of crates under a walkway painted with murals — Under the walkway, two workers lean into a trolley of crates. The city runs on this.

A person sitting on a ledge beneath a wall mural of painted faces — **Someone painted a crowd of faces** under the walkway to watch the real crowd go by. On the ledge, one person, head down, not watching anyone.

Pedestrians walking under an elevated walkway in strong sunlight and shadow — Low sun under the walkways. Long shadows, a few figures, and for once, room.

A quiet road under an elevated walkway, one van in the lane — A road with one van on it. In this city, that is rare enough to photograph.

A narrow back lane lined with stacked shop signs — A back lane, signs stacked like books on a shelf, every one of them somebody's livelihood.

Rows of red lanterns hanging above a pedestrian street — A sky of red lanterns. Underneath, nobody looks up. They are used to it.

A man at his desk in an open shopfront with handwritten red notices on the counter

Chapter four

老舖

The keepers Old shops, dai pai dongs and cha chaan tengs

Rents are high. Chains move in and the old shops close, one at a time. Walk slowly enough and you will still find some of them: a tailor, a man at his desk behind handwritten notices, a dried seafood shop, a cha chaan teng, a dai pai dong.

The notices on the counter are rental listings, brushed by hand in red: Graham Street, Queen's Road Central, Robinson Road.

A tailor at his sewing machine inside a small shop, a cheongsam on a stand by the door — **The tailor** at his machine. By the door, a cheongsam waits for someone to come back for it.

A shop window with a sign in Chinese and a man inside — A shop window, a sign, a man inside. Still open.

A dried seafood shop with goods piled at the front and four people behind the counter — **Abalone, sea cucumber, shark fin, fish maw, dried scallop,** says the sign. Behind the counter, four people, and all the time in the world.

A bird's nest and ginseng shop with jars and bags rising to the ceiling — **Jars to the ceiling.** Bird's nest and ginseng, says the sign. Everything in here is for something.

A shopkeeper inside a small street kiosk, beads and small jewellery on display — A kiosk barely wider than the shopkeeper inside it. A whole shop in the width of a doorway.

A red taxi with its boot open outside a shop — A red taxi, boot open, cut in half by the frame. Business as usual on both sides of it.

When these cooks retire, the stalls go with them.

大牌檔

A dai pai dong open-air kitchen under a green awning, with round tables and stools — **The dai pai dong.** A kitchen under a tarp, folding tables, round stools, a cook at the back. No new licences for decades, and only a handful left. Eat here while you can.

A dai pai dong stall half hidden behind leaves with a bicycle parked beside it — Another one, hiding behind the leaves, a bicycle keeping it company.

Noodles and sweets, says the signboard.

There is barely a building here at all: a kitchen, a roof and the street.

A corner cha chaan teng with an orange awning and customers on stools at the counter — **The corner cha chaan teng.** Milk tea, buttered buns, a counter open to the street, and a stool for anyone with ten minutes.

The doorway of Australia Dairy Company, a busy cha chaan teng with tiled walls and waiters in white — **Australia Dairy Company.** Tiles, a ceiling fan, waiters in white, nearly every table taken.

A diner on his phone inside a restaurant framed by green doors, a companion across the table — Green doors, and a diner on his phone while his companion eats. Lunch, as it is actually eaten.

A double-decker Hong Kong tram in a colourful painted livery

Chapter five

叮叮

Ding ding Trams and red taxis

The trams have run along the north shore of the Island since 1904. Everyone calls them ding ding, after the bell. They are slow, cheap and narrow, and they share the road with red taxis that are none of those things.

A woman crossing the tram tracks, eyes down, a double-decker tram behind her — A woman crosses the tracks, eyes down, as if the tram were a rumour.

Tell a Hong Kong taxi driver you are running late and you will be treated to an experience out of Need for Speed.

The taxis would not stop for the camera, so the camera moved with them and let the city smear.

A red taxi blurred at speed on a city street — A taxi at speed, the camera swinging with it, the whole street smeared behind.

A red taxi on a wet road seen from above, two umbrellas at the kerb beside LOOK LEFT and LOOK RIGHT markings — **LOOK RIGHT. LOOK LEFT.** In two languages, painted large, because the road has learned not to trust you.

Pedestrians with umbrellas walking past flower stalls in the rain — Flower stalls in the rain, and every umbrella in the street up at once.

A red taxi parked at the kerb with its door open — A door left open at the taxi stand. Somebody will be along.

A Wan Chai street lined with red taxis under a hotel sign, seen from a footbridge — **Wan Chai.** Taxis, signs, and buildings packed close enough to shade the road.

A busy road with red taxis and trams, seen from a footbridge — From above, the city's arteries: taxis, trams, everyone going somewhere, nobody going slowly.

A silver convertible parked outside a dim sum restaurant at night — A convertible outside a dim sum restaurant. Old money, new money, same pavement.

A wonton noodle shop glowing under its red sign at night

Chapter six

霓虹

After dark Noodle shops, neon and Man Mo Temple

Most of the big neon signs have come down, declared unsafe or out of fashion. What light is left comes from the shops: noodle counters, roast goose windows, fruit under red lamps. On film, the reds come out the way they felt.

Wonton noodles, says the sign. Fluorescent white inside, red signs outside.

Customers crowded at a fruit shop counter under a red awning at night — The fruit counter after dark, the awning glowing red, a crowd that is not going home yet.

Pedestrians walking along a pavement under shop signs at night — Night on the pavement, a green light, and everybody moving before it changes.

A fruit shop under red lamps with a woman walking past looking at her phone — **Fruit under red lamps,** a woman on her phone. The colours are not exaggerated. If anything, the film was being polite.

Roast geese hanging in the window of Yat Lok above sacks of rice — **Yat Lok.** Roast goose in the window, sacks of rice at the door, and the glow of a shop that knows exactly what it is.

Coils of incense hanging from the ceiling inside Man Mo Temple — **Man Mo Temple.** The incense coils burn for days. Every one of them is somebody's wish, still going.

Good Spring Company herbal tea shop at night with customers at the counter — **Good Spring Company.** Herbal tea at the counter. Stop, drink, move on.

Shek O beach with swimmers in the water, a sandcastle and a rocky island offshore

Epilogue

再見

See you again Shek O, and the harbour at sunset

Shek O, on the far side of the island. Half an hour from Central and a different place entirely.

Hong Kong will not hold still. It was never going to.

A film camera is a hopeless way to keep a city: one frame at a time, no second chances, and no way of knowing what you have until long after you have left. But the frames that come back are not of the skyline. They are of a cook under a tarp, a tailor at his machine, a man at his desk with the door open, four people behind a counter waiting for someone to want something. People who were there, doing what they did, on a day that is already over.

The city does not give its past a proper goodbye. These are mine.

Victoria Harbour and the Central skyline at sunset, with Two IFC above the waterfront — **Looking west across the harbour, into the haze.** The film holds the sky and the water without either going to nothing.

Hold still,
Hong Kong.

慢慢嚟

Colophon 61 photographs of everyday Hong Kong, on film, by Sri Ray. Published November 2026. Tap any photograph to see it larger.

The journal before this one went the other way, slowly: Not So Fast, twelve days across Ladakh on a motorcycle.