Installation, CLEAR GALLERY TOKYO Slide Mount, laminating film, residue of everyday, label sticker, ink and magnifying glass, 2022 Something exists quietly around me, breathing little. The negligible debris of everyday life—a leek in soup, an eyelash on a cheek, fluffy dust, a spider’s carcass on the windowsill, eraser shavings, or a piece of scattered candy—is itself a tiny body, visible or invisible, born somewhere unknown and forgotten somewhere else, equally unknown. I choose to pick them up, intervening before they vanish from memory. I compress and enclose them in a container, exposing their presence. Each object sheds its former character and memory, taking on a new life—one that moves inevitably toward death, or perhaps toward another life. They wait quietly in the corners of my room, their own disappearance approaching. They remain in the world according to the natural order of “being born and dying,” seeming far more modest than we are. Through those small existence I have encountered, I imagine in my own room that the cosmos could be composed of trivial moments, different stories, and personal memories in the midst of great power that is inevitable for us and cannot be resisted.