There can't be a more hard-hitting metaphor of ancient China overwhelming and near-obliterating the detritus of British colonial legacy in Hong Kong than in the image of a hulking banyan tree eating up an entire wall in King George V Memorial Park. The tree has wrung itself around and almost swallowed the turquoise blue-and-gold plaque installed in 1936 - to mark the British monarch's passing - like a hungry python.

Even as more building blocks - newer, snazzier and yes, taller - shoot up and obfuscate Hong Kong's already-crowded skyline, nature seems to be locked in a war with concrete, trying to reclaim and occupy every inch of space it possibly can. In a city where human beings are forever trying to create more space from what is given to them - by placing shoe cabinets in the common corridor, putting up laundry drying racks extended from the balcony - it's perhaps not such a big surprise that nature should do it too. Colonial inheritance is only a collateral damage in this battle for survival.

In this series Roy Liu has trained his camera on the rooftops of relatively old, un-restored buildings in Hong Kong. He has scanned the city, looking for specimens of irrepressible plant life cracking up and shooting through the lime-and-lichen-coated walls. From the little oasis of green surrounded by high-rises in Sheung Wan, to the near-deserted tong lau (tenement) buildings in Shek Kip Mei, awaiting re-development, to the mini jungle on the terrace of Tai Po Hui (market) - this is a study in contrasts between the handiwork of man and nature.

Conversely, it's the juxtaposition of the luminous, young leaves with cold and decaying concrete that invests these images with emotion. Looking at images of greenery sprouting through and filling up the corroding walls makes one feel both sad and tender. The shrubbery shining like a cute green pom-pom clipped to the building's terrace or a lacy green trimming along the ledge, humanize the concrete structures.

Human beings appear fleetingly, merged with the cityscape. In this grand theater of struggle between concrete and nature, they don't seem to have more than a walk-on part.

basu@chinadailyhk.com

It's morning as usual for one of the last few residents of a tong lau building in Shek Kip Mei, which has since been handed over to developers. Photos by Roy Liu / China Daily

The tree growing on the rooftop of Tai Po Hui (market) has stood there for roughly 30 years. Locals say the pigeons nesting on its branches are a nuisance.

Twin trees grow quietly on the rooftop of a building in Wan Chai, looking over the buzzing marketplace beneath.

A bush sprouts obstinately on the rooftop of a building at Temple Street, Yau Ma Tei. It has since been uprooted for fear it might damage the structure.

An ancient banyan tree has engulfed a wall and the metal plaque proclaiming the city’s colonial past at King George V Memorial Park almost completely.

A tree atop this building in Temple Street, Yau Ma Tei, makes for a lone spot of green in a concrete jungle.

(HK Edition 04/22/2015 page7)