I used four food preservation bags to contain water and froze them into ice. Another bag held my own blood. In the video, I lie atop the four ice blocks within a bathtub, with the ice block containing blood placed on my body. The bathtub symbolises the protective embrace of my mother’s placenta, while the ice inflicts pain upon me over time. Using a flashlight to illuminate the ice, blood appears to be my only glimmer of hope in the dark environment. Throughout the performance, I engage in actions such as touching, embracing, and scraping away the ice. The constant fear instilled by my family has always made me yearn to sever ties with them. However, I am unable to alter the blood relationship, making the bloodline an indelible part I cannot escape. 

I used my body to explore ways of expressing pain that the audience can resonate with. The school uniform I wore represented the obedience taught from youth, and a sense of being bound or restrained. In the video, I knelt on Pebbles Road, where most people walk with their feet. The underlying meaning is that my mother made me afraid, partly because she taught me in a way she thought was right. However, I only had one choice, which was to obey. The performance originates from my experience of eczema as a child. My mother believed that placing slices of garlic on the wound could disinfect it. The juice released from the slices of garlic stung my wound, yet I am unable to struggle nor resist. On my journey to pursue health, there was much pain.  

In my inability to forge lasting connections with others, I yearn to piece myself together, attempting to assemble fragments of different glass persistently. Love, akin to water, remains colorless and tasteless, an essential yet intangible human need. Amidst this, various individuals bestow upon me care and affection, even when I have not fully embraced them. Despite my efforts to mend, cracks persist. I am unable to retain these acts of care and love, only witnessing their departures. As the water flows, I see and feel it, but alas, I cannot fully absorb it. Why, then, do they persist in offering me water, knowing that it will inevitably slip away? Is there still a glimmer of hope to change the current state of affairs?