In my culture, we have always been taught to suppress personal emotions to merge into the crowds. Anger, sorrow, confusion, loneliness—even excitement and happiness—ought to be quietly concealed. Our sentimental moments should remain unspoken and undisplayed. In my culture, emotional expression is often viewed as a sign of weakness, a foolish act that leaves one exposed to harm.

So as I grew, I habitually built walls around my emotions, using rational thinking as a protective net to isolate myself from the world. For a time, this emotional numbness created an illusion of being strong.

Then, later, I journeyed through life’s seasons and fluctuations, hiding within self-protection through cycles of gain and loss. And later still, I discovered that the barriers I believed were my protection were as fragile as glass, while the vulnerability I feared was released and diluted the moment I dared to express it.

Human emotion, I believe, holds a power stronger than anything else.

In creating this work, I underwent a long and profound process of self-reflection, contemplating my relationship with my emotions and my pain. Throughout, I learned to embrace the part of me that once hid trembling in the depths—the self that is both fragile and strong.

Within every turn of light,

I conceal the resilience of a whole universe.

This fantasy is fragile

yet eternal.