I was out of the country when my grandmother passed away earlier this year, and my parents didn't tell me until I got home. At the time, my grandmother needed to be cremated as soon as possible due to the epidemic, so I didn't get to see the last of her. My grandfather, who lived with my grandmother a few years ago, also passed away while I was studying abroad, so my family didn't tell me about it until a month later, when I was preparing for my exams. My uncle, who lived with my maternal grandmother and grandfather, also committed suicide many years ago, but my parents didn't want me to see his body because they didn't want me to see him when I was still in school. This room was always filled with pain, decay and depression.
My grandmother was a Buddhist, so there were many displays in the house and Buddhist sutras were played on a daily loop. Since my mother had several siblings, my grandmother's house always had very large quantities of slippers.
After they all passed away, I often felt guilty. Because I didn't see the last of the three people who lived here, the existence of this house is like a constant reminder to cherish each day with the people around me. To confront this pain and remembrance, I went back to her room and photographed her belongings, trying to make myself stand in them and feel their original movement. Maybe I'll never come back to this place after that, because it's filled with too many sad memories. So this is the last time I will see this house.
There was a small supernatural incident on the day of the shoot, but I know that my loving family will always protect me on the other dimension.