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2019/5/9 — 11:54

圖片素材來源:BBC片段截圖

圖片素材來源:BBC片段截圖

編按:方禮倫在本篇希望香港人反思我們真的需要一個「中國夢」嗎?

Last year I took a huge step by leaving my home by birth. There was so little left I recognised.

Secretly I had hoped distance would make the heart see what I had missed as I struggled to hold on to everything that had defined me. I am and have only ever been a child of HK, and the Hong Kong people are my people.

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Today I find myself more unsettled than I have ever felt, and in a most profound and fundamental way. Distance has only made me realise my home, my history and my family, my values and my self, does not align with the China Dream. In Amazing China there is no place for thought and feelings, there are only political truisms. My home has gone, and its memory fast being eroded and replaced.

To those who identify with Hong Kong but doubt this, let me ask, can you to identify with the PRC? This is not China, nor the policies that have, and only through international engagement, raised so many out of poverty. What I refer to specifically is a nature as manifested today in a society blinded to, and afraid to confront, critical self-reflection. Just to think what is done in our name — at home in the cultural and ethnic genocide in the "autonomous" provinces of Xinjiang and Tibet, but also abroad in the support of world-wide authoritarianism. Dare we even discuss, as my family once could do publicly without fear nor favour, that the party is as foreign to Han Chinese civilisation as the labour rights lawyer. Subtle oppression is so much more vicious than the brute with a bludgeon as whilst the result may be the same, the bludgeon leaves its mark.

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My Hong Kong had no need of a national dream. We did not need a Greater Bay Area to support and for which to be grateful, we just busied ourselves in what we did and thrived in doing so. And sound and respectable people did not declare to a half Chinese boy that he can never understand his home.

But in leaving I have also become aware, deep down, just how much everything that was Hong Kong continues to mean to me. How central it is to understanding who I am, and perhaps the innocence of my nature. Whilst I recognise my privilege and am grateful to UK for welcoming me, I have not found a new home in London. I can not as long as I am in transit. I feel an exile from a home I know deep down will never return. This is what unsettles me.

I am sorry for being sensitive in this way. But I can not deny who I am nor who deeply I feel for Hong Kong, nor how important it is for me to rediscover a patch of earth in which I might reconnect with myself. Until I am able to lay down roots, in new and foreign soil, to live is merely to die a little each day. And I wonder what part of me will die tomorrow.

That's about all I can bring myself to write. Except to again say that I am sorry. We are not all able to leave the family nest, even as the tree is felled so that a new farmer may sow his seeds. It's hard to write as the tree falls.

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