Can You Hear Her Cry for Help?

The relationship between Hong Kong and me has been one of sentimental nature. I was born and grew up in the city. My attachment to the place has always been heartfelt. That fact alone is like an umbilical cord that ties us at birth, which, though physically cut moments later, will forever connect us emotionally in a mother-child bond. As a grown-up child, I spent many memorable years in the nurturing care of my imaginary parent in the prime days of her life. But her nightmare began thirteen years ago when she was forced to divorce her foreign partner. I have been watching painfully and helplessly her self-destructive behavior and her path to ruin ever since she reunited with her abusive and patriarchal first husband.

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