Surprisingly, a storage facility can actually house a secret garden. Even before you clock the immaculate, shining lockers, a whiff of mint and lavender will waft through Wong Chuk Hang mini storage. A verdant oasis in the middle of innumerable steel units—planters, herbs, and even a handful of cherry tomatoes—can be found on the fifth floor. A local florist named Sarah started this little paradise while the coronavirus was still in circulation. Now was the time she wanted to find a sanctuary for her woodland companions? Residents take turns watering each other’s plants, leaving notes, and exchanging seeds. Trading rosemary cuttings while putting on winter coats is a very neighborly thing to do.

You might expect level three to be ordinary. Keep looking until you find the obscure door marked 3B, which leads to the vintage music room. Similar to Narnia, but the carpet is velvet rather than snow. Synthesizers, drums, and amplifiers on standby. People in the area come here after school or work to jam on the instruments that line the walls. Here every Thursday, taxi driver Tommy plays sax. The soundproofing, he claims, is superior to any downtown studio. No judging neighbors, no clock-watching. In the hallway between the Cubs memorabilia and the Christmas light boxes, you can hear nothing but music and laughter.

Now for the exciting part—unit 14D. An intimate movie theater is completely unexpected. Featuring two plush seats, a popcorn maker, and reel-to-reel projectors. The sign reads: “Screenings Every Full Moon.” There’s no ticket, just a stack of films and a WhatsApp group. Last month, an impromptu showing of a ’80s kung fu flick drew fifteen people (plus two dogs, who respectfully snoozed through the action scenes). Brian, the silver-haired projectionist, confessed he started it so he wouldn’t have to squint at his phone screen. Old-school, cinematic camaraderie in the most unsuspecting place.

Bits like these set Wong Chuk Hang’s storage gem apart. You walk in to stash boxes and leave with basil, a new friend, or maybe a midnight movie memory. Sometimes, a storage unit holds more than just the things we can’t fit at home; it holds slices of the city you never knew you needed.