In August 2018, I journeyed to Sin-Huà in Tainan, seeking to bridge the divide between my mother, bound in Taipei, and her childhood home “sin-huá a-má tau” (Grandma’s home), the place she has longed for.
The land where Grandma’s house once stood had already been overtaken by weeds taller than people. I walked into the weeds, and step by step, I moved through them, one hand parting the overgrowth, the other holding a camera—a silent witness tracing my presence and my visit to the vanished past.

Beneath the wilderness, I uncovered a vibrant scene that veiled the remnants of Grandma’s house.