Somewhere in Xinjiang

Strangers, we had never met before. Some “intermediate existence” is the only thing we share, through the short stay, the existence as an onlooker and the relationship of attachment kept at a distance. The sense of reality brought by the rapid change around me feels awkward, but I don’t allow myself to run away from it. To keep adjusting the relationship with the photographed by constantly changing the distance between us while remaining my intermediate existence as the invisible, is a nonstop day-by-day training. My alibi, the fingerprint left on the shutter button, the image reflected in the pupils through the mirror…a pair of strange eyes are looking at me. In the camera obscura, maybe there is some itchy, undeniable remote memories for me to find.