In The Well (2016-2017)
When I was little, I looked into the well in my grandmother’s backyard. It was covered with a heavy wooden lid and left unused for years. When I opened it, I was confronted with nothing but an infinite black hole. I dropped a pebble in and the darkness swallowed it right away. I began counting seconds. Each second of silence was intimidating. The sense of depth ran far beyond my imagination. Finally, it hit the bottom. It sounded like it was
One day, the other end of the well opened and there was a boy. No, it was a mirror image of myself and the sky. Somehow the well got wet. On the thick black water, my shadow overlapped my reflection. I waved a hand to the dark figure to confirm it was me. It worked but in a way, I could sense fragility in the synchronized action. Maybe it was because there were distance and isolation. It was the darkest shadow of myself I had ever seen. The longer I stared it, the more it became vivid. And then I got scared by his gaze.