In the play of city lights and shadows, we watch—and search for ourselves.
Perhaps it’s because I grew up in a crowded, complex city that I’ve always been drawn to films set in urban landscapes. The dense weave of skyscrapers and winding streets has a certain allure, holding countless souls and stories within. I like to quietly observe these passing lives—moments of movement, waiting, and everyday fragments. It’s not just about seeing the world, but about finding, within these intersecting paths, a version of myself I once knew.
9 films
A Long Ride
A Beautiful Bird Day
In Memory of The Chinatown
Monsoon Blue
Big Day
Before the Box Gets Emptied
Our Time on the Grass
Letter to the Young Intellectuals of Hong Kong
Kaohsiung City, Yancheng Distric, Fubei Rd., No.31
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Those irreversible slices of life
Recently, in a novel I've come to love, I found myself grasping the weight of life's slices. In the story, there is a wicked sorcerer who freezes people in the instant just before tragedy strikes—suspending everything, sealing it into a crystal ball, and building an entire museum from these frozen moments. And isn't film, in its own way, just as cruel? As viewers, we are little more than instruments for collecting tissue slices—slipping into a character's world for a single fleeting moment, wandering through it in passing, only to return, in the blink of an eye, to the reality that is our own.