Daytime Firework 2023-2024
As we grow older, the edges of childhood blur. What was once vivid becomes soft, abstract. Our recollections begin to drift, reshaped by what surrounds us: films, songs, digital whispers, and distant stories.

We forget, and yet—we remember.
We remember through fragments that are not ours, through scenes we never lived but somehow feel familiar.
Memory becomes not a record, but a reconstruction. A blend of truth and invention.

I photographed eight students—myself among them—who were born in China and crossed oceans to study in New York.
I asked them of home. Of early years. Of what still lingers.
Then, I photographed each one in a space that evoked a feeling—not of fact, but of memory. Places that were not from their childhoods, yet stirred something within: a sense of déjà vu, a sudden nostalgia, the echo of a moment never truly lived.