I want to remain lucid, and I am willing to dream.

I want to remain lucid, and I am willing to dream.

我想保持清醒，也願意入夢。

I can feel nostalgia for an era I have never lived through, or recognise something of myself in a world I know to be fictional. Knowing how it was made does not undo what I feel. I want to understand what makes me willing to believe, and how much of what I call my own takes shape in that belief.

我會為未曾經歷的年代感到鄉愁，也會在一個明知虛構的世界裡，認出自己的某一部分。知道它如何被製造，並沒有使感受失效。我更想知道，是什麼讓我願意相信；又有多少我稱為自己的東西，是在相信的過程裡形成的。

I question the happiness laid out for us, yet I cannot be sure how much of what I desire has taken shape outside that design. I need order so I can act. But the life it makes possible may gradually become the only life I can imagine.

我懷疑那些替人安排好的幸福，卻無法確定，自己的渴望有多少是在安排之外長成的。我需要秩序，使自己能夠行動；但這些安排，也可能逐漸變成我唯一能想像的生活。

When I press the shutter, I draw a boundary around a part of the world. What lies beyond it does not stop. When the same melody returns, I am already waiting for a certain note to arrive. I hand my time over to it, and begin to wait on its terms.

按下快門時，我為世界劃出一個邊界；邊界以外的事並沒有停止。同一段旋律再響起，我已在等某個音落下。我把時間交給它，也開始照著它的安排，等待。

When I turn the camera towards someone, my expectations are there too. I want to see them, and I want my idea to hold. When these desires get in each other’s way, what am I still willing to see?

鏡頭朝向別人，我的期待也在其中。我希望看見他，也希望自己的想法能成立。當這兩個願望互相妨礙，我還願意看見什麼？

As I make work, I bring together voices I have absorbed. Some answer one another; others make me argue with myself.

創作時，我把吸收而來的聲音放在一起。有些彼此呼應，有些使我反駁自己。

I want to sing. I want to hear the note on which a sentence, so certain on the page, begins to falter.

我想唱。也想聽見，一句寫下來很確定的話，會在哪個音上動搖。