I look forward to an empty lift every day. This chamber is my private stage,  allowing me to perform the most intimate dramas when I am travelling from one point to another. When I was in primary school I liked to sing, shout, and jump in the lift. I would burn off all my energy in that chamber before I arrived home. I even dared to speak foul language in the lift; in any case the surveillance camera cannot record sounds. I did not care about the monitoring security guards; sometime I would point my middle finger, or make a face at the camera. Since my secondary school, the lift has become a space for me to tidy myself up, especially before job interviews. That is the last chance for me to rehearse. In recent years, I have spent much time in that chamber organizing my mind and using my phone. After all, I have to cross this boundary between autonomy and conformity when the lift doors open.

每天我都期待一部空，進入這個密室讓我能夠由一點到另一點之間拾獲最私密的表演舞台。中小學時喜歡在裡面唱歌、大叫大跳，將回家前最後的亢奮耗盡，講句仆街冚家產都冇有怕。反正閉路電視沒有收音，懶理管理員的監控，有時還會對著閉路電視舉中指，做鬼臉。中學過後主要是梳理儀容，特別是出來工作後這個空間是求職面試前最後演練的機會。近年則多數放空，整理思緒和睇電話。最後，每次當門打開，我又要跨過這條自主與妥協的邊界。