An epilogue for Nausea

After all the production process and re-watching it for countless times, Nausea finally feels like a dream. I'm glad I left it behind. I still can't fully grasp what went to my mind when I created them. I felt like I was possessed with something. It wasn't me, but it was still me. Am I me all along? I know who made this, the me who lived on the 15th floor and watered the orchids every morning. The me who had an eating disorder and saw ghosts on the temple street. It is proven by the war portraits, the cigarettes, the talisman behind the Chinese landscape painting, the drifting smoke over the crystal chandelier. I know this person well - my ancient self.

I shall give my thanks to the actors for immediately - purposefully or accidentally - understanding what I was looking for. For searching in their own pockets and baring their findings on screen. This piece is for you as much as it is for me.

Finally - I hope you can catch your own ghosts, ferment them in a jar, and open it up again after several thousands of years. I hope you have a good old friend to enjoy that nostalgic sip with.

Love,
Adine