I’m Ricci. I arrived in Manchester around September 10, 2019, straight into university, studying anthropology at the University of Manchester. I’ve stayed here ever since and never lived in another UK city.

Where we’re sitting now is the university’s old campus, also called Northern Campus. Engineering courses used to be taught here. Nearby there’s a hall called Wright Robinson, where I lived in my first year in Manchester, though not for long, only four months, because the pandemic hit soon after.

Over the years I’ve been back to Hong Kong quite a few times, including a full year during my gap year, but my life has really been centered in Manchester. My university friends, my current job, and now Read First Bookshop, which I’m involved in, it’s all here.

So now it feels like I have two homes. If Hong Kong is my home, this is too. I know this place well, I don’t need Google Maps to find my way, even drunk, even half conscious, I still know how to get home.

Having lived here so long, I’ve built up a lot of memories, especially around this particular area. Passing certain spots brings back things I used to do here. That feeling connects me to a sense of home, and having that familiarity and those memories also makes me feel more grounded.

Because sometimes our feelings are very instinctive, I worry about overdressing this too much. But it’s true that this area has trains, and the sound of trains. I grew up in Fo Tan in Hong Kong, which is also an industrial district, and it’s a bit like here. Even though Manchester has less industry now, these places still feel connected to me, and that feels close to home.

Also, the architectural style of this area reminds me of the old government headquarters, City Hall, the old Star Ferry pier, and the General Post Office that’s about to be demolished, all white, boxy buildings, so being here feels quite comfortable too.

I hadn’t really decided where to record, but on second thought, I figured why not come back here. This place really does feel comfortable to me. I can do nothing at all and not worry about it, do whatever I want. Even with nothing to do, just sitting here is calming, it settles me.

I think the feeling of home matters a lot, and it’s closely tied to this sense of “home.” So in recent years, when I go back to Hong Kong, my sense of home there has actually faded, because I’ve genuinely started to feel unfamiliar with it. Or maybe I’ve lost my familiarity with that city.

For example, last time I went back to Hong Kong, I saw a lot of shops wrapping things in green cling film, like Pinduoduo or Taobao packaging. At first I didn’t know what it was. I only found out after asking someone. That’s when I felt my sense of home start to fade a little.

Also, when I go back to Hong Kong now, most of my relationships were formed there, but they’re stuck at the secondary school stage, they haven’t developed further. So when we meet up, we mostly talk about the past.

In recent years, when I talk with friends in Hong Kong, it’s mostly about how life is going, more practical things, less exchange of views on other matters. I feel like some relationships have kind of stalled. So if you ask me whether Hong Kong or Manchester feels more like home now, it’s probably Manchester.

I think it comes down to that sense of familiarity. Like on the subway, when I think about giving up my seat, I wonder, do I actually need to do this. Some greetings, do I need to give them, or are they actually unnecessary now. Or in the UK I’m used to saying “oh, thanks” every time I leave a shop. But in Hong Kong that seems a bit excessive, people don’t expect it, they might think you’re being a bit odd.

Sometimes after a good meal I’ll tell the waiter, “that was delicious!” Because I look Asian, they assume I live there, so they get thrown off for a second, thinking I’m being unusually enthusiastic. I think these are the kinds of things I’m starting to lose, that sense of what used to feel natural.

Also, about that sense of distance you mentioned, I think the best example is my last trip back to Hong Kong, in December. I stayed a month. I hadn’t been back in the previous two years. What struck me this time was that I’d picked up a new interest, photography. Not with a camera, just my phone, but I found myself photographing a lot of things that two years ago I wouldn’t have thought worth photographing.

Now I find these things quite special, they’re rare to see in the UK, so I photograph them. My eyes have started seeing like a tourist’s. Some familiar places, or the neighborhood I grew up in, haven’t changed that much. I have friends who live in Kwun Tong, and that area has changed a lot in the past two or three years, lots of new malls. But my area hasn’t.

There is some distance now, but I think that actually makes things more beautiful in a way. Distance isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it might let me enjoy Hong Kong more. But if I lived there long term, I probably wouldn’t feel this way. Not being so close actually makes it easier for me to do things for this city. If I cared too much, I might not be able to see things clearly enough to keep going. I might end up drained, just sitting there not knowing what to do.

What I do with the bookshop now is connected to Hong Kong too. I think if I were running a bookshop in Hong Kong and encountered things like staff being arrested, I’d feel far more discouraged than I do now, or feel like there’s nothing I can do. But being in the UK, I know I need to make the most of the opportunity while I have it, keep bringing in Chinese books for readers who want them, and keep going.

In the past, doing cultural work in Hong Kong wasn’t easy, you were often watched, and things didn’t go smoothly. Since I can do it here, I’ll do more of it. I think this sense of distance actually makes it easier for me to find motivation again, and to be clearer about where I stand. That’s also part of why I stay in Manchester.

You ask what job I’d look for if I went back to Hong Kong right now, and honestly I can’t answer that. A friend asked me this before too. I realized what I want to do, or where I feel I can contribute more, is here, so this sense of distance has always been there, this feeling of being somewhat outside of it all.

That feeling was strongest in 2019. During those two years I was in the UK, surrounded by British friends who’d ask if I wanted to go clubbing, but watching the news from Hong Kong, I felt completely powerless.

But eventually I learned to accept one thing, that I can only do what I’m able to do now. The one thing I remind myself of constantly is that since I’m not in Hong Kong, I shouldn’t speak on Hong Kong’s behalf, because I’m not carrying the same consequences as the people who are there.

For example, I have friends who go north to spend money in mainland China, and I know some emigrant Hongkongers criticize them for it, but I don’t. They have to get on with their lives too. They have to accept how society has changed and find a way to keep living that feels acceptable and comfortable to them. If we don’t live there, I don’t think we should comment too much.

I think this kind of self-awareness matters, and we shouldn’t keep putting Hong Kong down either, there’s a lot that’s still being done well there. If everyone only has 24 hours in a day, instead of wasting an hour online criticizing Hong Kong, better to spend that hour looking at who in Hong Kong is quietly doing good work. That awareness matters, but as for whether this is watching from a safe distance, or being somewhat detached, there’s probably some truth to that too.

On the other hand, they don’t understand what difficulties we face here in the UK either. They might think we’re having an easy time here, but honestly everyone knows deep down that’s not really true. I think whether Hongkongers in Hong Kong and Hongkongers in the UK can stay connected in the end depends a lot on mutual trust. You have to believe everyone is still working toward the same thing, just from different positions now, facing different things. Whatever choices people end up making, we shouldn’t over criticize, it’s enough to support the people you feel are worth supporting.

I think that’s just my own view or mindset. First thing, this is the first time I’ve ever sat here for fifteen minutes. I used to draw here, but just sitting quietly like this, doing nothing, whether listening or watching people pass by, I don’t think I’ve ever done that. Even if it’s not purely an auditory thing, it’s this stillness of just being in this place.

Even though I lived here before and have come back a few times, every time I came back it was with other people. But like just now, you and I sitting here, we’ve actually become part of it. We’re not here experiencing some event, we’re just sitting, listening, recording, so this is a first. Naturally I also find myself comparing it to my past impressions of this place.

When I lived here before, this campus building was still in use. So I’ve noticed there are far fewer people around now. There are still people passing through, but far fewer than before.

When I lived here, I didn’t really notice how many trains there were, and how frequent they were. It seemed like between Piccadilly and Oxford Road there were more of them passing. The sound of trains, though, actually feels less prominent now.

I thought the train sounds would be loud, but I didn’t expect the birdsong to be just as loud, and there are quite a few different kinds of birds. I find myself curious what species these birds are, and which trains pass through here.

Before, I never thought to explore any of this, it was just everyday background noise. But now it’s gone from hearing to listening, and that feels different.

After all this, I remembered that “comfort and ease” matters a lot to me when it comes to home, and I suddenly realized I really do like it here, this place really is comfortable. Before I knew it, fifteen minutes had passed just sitting here, and my mind had settled too. Anyone could find a place that means something to them and record there, it’s like capturing the present moment.

Even if this place gets demolished one day, or gets redeveloped and opened up into some noisy innovation district, I’ll still be able to record it in another way. Photos, drawings, recordings, they’re all reference points. Listening back in the future, at the very least I’ll understand myself better, just like the birdsong and train sounds I just recorded.

But on another level, having this recording means I’ll know, in the future, how I saw home back in August 2026. These are things I might have already had some subconscious sense of, just never properly brought out to talk about.

Through listening, I can actually understand how I see home, how my mindset has shifted over the years, whether I’ve already come to think of this place as home, and that’s valuable.

Manchester has let me get to know myself again, it’s been a new starting point too. The first time living independently, away from family, gave me more space and time to explore who I am. Before, living with family, with siblings around, I never really had the chance to get to know this side of myself.

Especially when I first arrived in 2019, in an environment where nobody knew me and I knew no one, it felt like I could rebuild my identity from scratch. I think that process was precious, being able to start over, even doing something silly on the street, nobody would know who you were.

Because in Hong Kong, there are so many mutual friends, you run into people you know just walking down the street. Here, I really got that feeling of a fresh start. Of course, over time, as I got to know more people, that feeling faded. But I think that’s what this place gave me, a starting point for rediscovering myself, and a city that feels comfortable, that feels like home.

That’s my own summary.