Seven Days of Sight
Year: 2025
Media: Video
Duration: 10 minutes
每次决定出门前，我会花大量时间思考穿什么衣服，甚至临出门前还会再换好几套。这几乎就像是一种角色扮演——我今天想通过这些造型向四周传达什么信号？今天的我是自信的、柔和的、冷漠的、还是活泼的？在反复穿衣、脱衣，出门、进门的过程中，我感到了一种不可忽视的压力，这种压力伴随而来的是对走出家门外，那个广阔世界的不安。
此时我感到，衣服不再仅是一件衣服，它就像我随着环境而改变的说话语气，面部表情，和肢体动态；它是我在外部世界自我伪装的假面，是我自我保护的手段。而这种伪装直到我回到自己的卧室后也没能卸下。卧室也许是最能让人感受到安全的场所，是每个人最的私密空间。然而当我从外部世界返回个人空间时，却发现自己无法与自己创造的假面分离，这种割裂感致使我无法获得安宁感。
于是我问自己的心：在这无尽的七天的循环中，在压力一次次积累、爆发、再归于平静之后，是否存在着那个我真正想要成为的自己？
—
Before deciding to go out, I often spend a great deal of time thinking about what to wear, and even right before leaving, I might change outfits several times. It almost feels like a kind of role-play—what signals do I want to send to the world today through these looks? Am I confident, gentle, aloof, or lively? In the repeated process of dressing and undressing, stepping out and returning in, I feel an undeniable pressure—one accompanied by a deep unease toward the vast world outside my door.
In these moments, clothes cease to be just clothes. They become like the tone of voice, facial expressions, and body movements that shift with my surroundings; they are the mask with which I disguise myself in the external world, a means of self-protection. Yet, even when I return to my own bedroom, this disguise refuses to come off. The bedroom, perhaps the place where one should feel most safe, the most private of spaces, does not grant me release. When I come back from the outside world into my personal space, I find myself unable to part from the mask I have crafted. This dissonance robs me of the sense of peace I long for.
And so I ask my heart: within this endless seven-day cycle, after the pressure builds, bursts, and subsides again, does there exist the self I truly wish to become?
private view video
这里会是循环的起点。
生命如同一个无尽的圆环，万物周而复始。
第一天开始的时候，一切似乎都是崭新的，但却又隐隐交织着曾经的痕迹。
无论如何，我们都无法得知曾经在这里发生的任何事情了。
我们谈论着救赎，等待着被救赎。
有人执拗地盯着那些在泥潭里挣扎的人不放，又似乎试图急切地逃离人类要共同经历的苦难。
是谁筑起虚构的高墙，铺设雾中的幽径？我的内心在无限地放大，它笼罩了天地，遮蔽了我的双眼。
想象着，跨越它们，跨过自己
我的心沉没在盐湖中，被腐蚀，变成盐块的一部分。
在梦境中，我们真的能够逃脱现实的束缚吗。那如同迷宫一样的，是否只是另一个纬度的苦难在我们梦境中的投射？
第七天会是所有事物的终点，却会是下一个循环的开始。
会有新的光被创造，苦难会再次追逐我的影子。
它像潮水，奔向我，又像引力，将我向地心拽去，我却总想越过它的肩膀，看它身后的天空。
在日复一日的幻想中，挣扎着，匍匐着，循环着。我的心跳动着。
假如所有障碍都是自己设置的，太阳升起的时候，我将跨越它们，跨过自己
—
Here begins the cycle once more.
Life, like an endless ring, has neither beginning nor end.
Everything seems new, yet traces of the past linger, entwined with the present—though the past itself remains forever beyond our grasp.
We speak of redemption, yearning to be redeemed.
Our gaze lingers on those struggling in the mire, yet we, too, anxiously seek escape from shared suffering.
Who built these illusory walls, these mist-shrouded paths?
My soul expands without limit, enveloping the heavens and the earth, blinding my sight.
To transcend them, I must first transcend myself.
My heart sinks into the salt lake, corroded by time, dissolving into silence, becoming one with the salt.
Can we truly escape the shackles of reality within the realm of dreams?
The labyrinth that unfolds—could it be but a reflection of suffering from another dimension, cast into our slumbering minds?
Like a tide, it surges toward me; like gravity, it drags me downward.
And yet, I long to gaze beyond its shoulders, to glimpse the sky beyond. Day after day, I struggle, I crawl, I repeat the cycle.
When the sun rises, I shall cross beyond it all—beyond them, beyond myself.
生命如同一个无尽的圆环，万物周而复始。
第一天开始的时候，一切似乎都是崭新的，但却又隐隐交织着曾经的痕迹。
无论如何，我们都无法得知曾经在这里发生的任何事情了。
我们谈论着救赎，等待着被救赎。
有人执拗地盯着那些在泥潭里挣扎的人不放，又似乎试图急切地逃离人类要共同经历的苦难。
是谁筑起虚构的高墙，铺设雾中的幽径？我的内心在无限地放大，它笼罩了天地，遮蔽了我的双眼。
想象着，跨越它们，跨过自己
我的心沉没在盐湖中，被腐蚀，变成盐块的一部分。
在梦境中，我们真的能够逃脱现实的束缚吗。那如同迷宫一样的，是否只是另一个纬度的苦难在我们梦境中的投射？
第七天会是所有事物的终点，却会是下一个循环的开始。
会有新的光被创造，苦难会再次追逐我的影子。
它像潮水，奔向我，又像引力，将我向地心拽去，我却总想越过它的肩膀，看它身后的天空。
在日复一日的幻想中，挣扎着，匍匐着，循环着。我的心跳动着。
假如所有障碍都是自己设置的，太阳升起的时候，我将跨越它们，跨过自己
—
Here begins the cycle once more.
Life, like an endless ring, has neither beginning nor end.
Everything seems new, yet traces of the past linger, entwined with the present—though the past itself remains forever beyond our grasp.
We speak of redemption, yearning to be redeemed.
Our gaze lingers on those struggling in the mire, yet we, too, anxiously seek escape from shared suffering.
Who built these illusory walls, these mist-shrouded paths?
My soul expands without limit, enveloping the heavens and the earth, blinding my sight.
To transcend them, I must first transcend myself.
My heart sinks into the salt lake, corroded by time, dissolving into silence, becoming one with the salt.
Can we truly escape the shackles of reality within the realm of dreams?
The labyrinth that unfolds—could it be but a reflection of suffering from another dimension, cast into our slumbering minds?
Like a tide, it surges toward me; like gravity, it drags me downward.
And yet, I long to gaze beyond its shoulders, to glimpse the sky beyond. Day after day, I struggle, I crawl, I repeat the cycle.
When the sun rises, I shall cross beyond it all—beyond them, beyond myself.