Do you know yourself? Do you dare to know yourself?
I am both a participant and an observer who injects into my life an unforeseeable variable, an experiment that collides with myself.
The first act of my own color is black.
The curtain is black, the stage is black, the camera is black, the eye is black, and I am black. At the beginning of the show, I was looking for a look-out, as if a long stay was not allowed, and suddenly I found my shoes on my feet and itching spread from the bottom to the scalp. All the voices are whispering, blinded in the dark, trying to reach out and grab them, and the sound disappears like smoke, and their hands are scattered from the tip of their fingers. I don't know where I am or even where I am.
Act two, my own color is red.
The sweater is red, the rose is red, the corset is red, the lips are red and I am red. If it's an experiment, it's whatever it is. The results are good and the results fail. I myself became a question mark, an exclamation mark, a stop, or an ellipsis, the more I understand myself, from familiar to unknown, and then an accident and acceptance. The cameraman's presence turned into a mirror reflecting my changes and movements, self-observation and collision. I dare to look for myself, not to be afraid to see myself, and the air around me becomes a word, and I can't wait to come and shake my hand and say what they hear.
In act three, my own color is white.
Lights are white, moonlight is white, tears are white, dreams are white and I am white. I was about to be empty, so I had to open myself up, and I had to sing in the air. I don't ask for anything here. We meet when we separate, we have when we lose. I'm still on my way to find myself, meet myself, say hello, you're here.
♪ And dream into reality ♪
Two men's play.
Goodbye.
"I'm watching."