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I have always had this urge to stare into things. It is as if, as long as I keep a close enough range, look with full attention, I will then be able to reach beyond the facade and understand things as they really are. As time goes by, there are moments that I would raise my arm, or look down to turn on the flash, to gaze at my skin. To me, the skin is a boundary between me and the universe. It is a starting point of my sensation, and the terminal of my physical form. It is paper thin, easily poked through with sharpened anything, easily wrinkled by force. A wall that blocks out all light from penetration. It is every instant of my searching gaze, every wrinkle, every pore, every spot. It is the ever-going history of me, a mathematical equation of matter and thought, all under the blanket.

The series by the end of the journey is a document of a certain phase of my life, also an extension. During which I went through a lot of emotional struggles, forcing myself to make decisions and adapting to changes. And my skin, as the biggest organ of mine, has been giving me feedback on how I treated myself and how I was treated. the journey as a section of this series, it is a retrospect through representing virtual construction of a reality experience. It is the overall weight of the time period, referring to the journey, it conveys my imagination of how linear time evolves and puts a trace on the thing itself. When I shift my sight，and return the initiative to time itself, my skin is healing and metabolizing as every second I breathe. All traces intervene and overlay to mark the end of each one of my many phases. The virtual image layers, skin textures from different body parts converge, overlaying into an ensemble; like a concrete wall finish that has been chronically exposed to the sun and washed again and again by the rain. Ambiguous and blurry, gloomy and desaturated, just like trying to capture the emotions behind every instant of my past journey.