In October 2019, I was filming in Japan. I had no idea that two months later, the largest viral outbreak of the century would be declared. Without realizing it, I was capturing the epitaphs of an era coming to an end, right where it had once begun. Since 1945, the world has become Hiroshima; from 2020 on, it would be defined by Wuhan.

From leisure to the office, disruption in the face of the unknown fades; the distance between us and what is foreign becomes trivial. From physical spaces to digital ones, we repeat the same customs in a shared realm. Among the remnants of what they call progress, I found something. Something that the tourist backdrops and banners of reconstruction fail to convey.

Gestures that calm and care for us.
Gestures that can wrap around emptiness.
Gestures that reveal the seams of grand narratives.