Tourists to Hong Kong return home and tell wonderful tales of a land where skyscrapers pop up on barren land within a few days. But there is a downside to progress.
As we stand, surrounded by cranes and trucks, on a muddy piece of land once known as the Yau Tong estate, John Leung Chun-yu points out where the roof-top kindergarten used to be; where the children used to play; where the old bus stop was.
'It's sad, isn't it?' he sighs.
The only reminder of times past are three forlorn-looking trees where construction - or destruction, rather - workers are dozing for their afternoon lap.
Mr Leung is not a historian, nor was he ever a resident of the Yau Tong estate. He is a 21-year-old amateur photographer who became obsessed with the place in the few weeks after the residents had moved out, but before the demolition work began.
The idea started last Lunar New Year when he visited friends near Yau Tong. He was drawn to the estate, which, although empty, still had signs of life, as if the families had left in a hurry.
What attracted Mr Leung was how ancient it all seemed, full of little things which cannot be seen in Hong Kong anymore.