In short, I would say, “I’m also them.” This time, when you sit down to share heartaches with someone, you discover fragments of yourself and your sorrows reflected in them and their pain. Don’t close your eyes; instead, gaze at their departures, arrivals, and the pain that spills from their lips like ritual music, or the sorrows that flows from their eyes like a river, expressed in their dance. Truly, the fragments of your sorrows in my eyes makes life’s struggles bearable. Recognizing that life’s endless trials aren’t carried by “me” alone, but shared among us, brings solace. Every person craves to be heard, to be recognized. We must scrutinize the concealed sorrows and witness a person’s resilience in body and emotion. I believe the most remarkable and respectful aspect of humanity is their determination amidst sorrow, evident in their expressions, commuting, explaining, listening, living, working, waking, and simply in their daily routines. Within these expressions of resilience lie striking similarities that draw us closer, heal, and linger in memory.

I’ve endeavored to depict these modes of resilience, connection, and closeness in a multimedia narrative space. To listen to the stories of several people transcending borders, time, gender, culture, and language. Our mourning rituals and tenacity are both unique and universal, incapable of being solely conveyed through words but also through visuals, objects, sounds, and more.