Chang Chia-Che

A forgotten roll of film, a folder set aside for later, and people slowly slipping from memory. As my father tries to remember his late father, what returns is not a memory, but a dream. While organizing files on my computer, I rediscover a roll of film. Through photographs, empty rooms, and fragments of conversation, I attempt to gaze upon moments that once existed. When both the body and the bond have disappeared, how can we continue to look at what remains?

Nineteen-year-old Yi-Xin has been raising her younger brother Chen alone. One day, her father’s former mistress leaves a young girl named Xin-Fang in her care. As the days pass, the three begin to form a bond—one that is tender, fragile, and far more complicated than Yi-Xin expected.

A forgotten roll of film, a folder set aside for later, and people slowly slipping from memory. As my father tries to remember his late father, what returns is not a memory, but a dream. While organizing files on my computer, I rediscover a roll of film. Through photographs, empty rooms, and fragments of conversation, I attempt to gaze upon moments that once existed. When both the body and the bond have disappeared, how can we continue to look at what remains?

Nineteen-year-old Yi-Xin has been raising her younger brother Chen alone. One day, her father’s former mistress leaves a young girl named Xin-Fang in her care. As the days pass, the three begin to form a bond—one that is tender, fragile, and far more complicated than Yi-Xin expected.