In a tiny room tucked in an alleyway of Taipei city, a familiar stranger returns for a brief cigarette.

Director’s Vision for ‘smoke gets on your mind’

Every summer when I go back to Taiwan, I always stop by my grandmother’s home. It’s a quiet rural neighborhood just outside of Taipei. The narrow alleyways, the hum of semi trucks on the highway – they’ve all become fragments in my memory. Because the majority of the residents there are elders, everything’s slower there, moments seem to exist somewhere between the present and the past.
This film was my attempt to capture those in-betweens: the memory of fleeting moments becoming a transition from the present to the past. It’s a loose plot following two people in conversation, with traces of a shared past. The boundaries between daydreams, memories, and mourning begin to blur.
It was essential to keep the look of the film seemingly timeless, and my grandmother’s room was the perfect set. The mix of older and newer furniture created a space that felt both anchored in the past and present. There was some improvisation because I wanted the freedom to explore the space. I also kept the crew minimal, as the process was experimental and the space was small. Everything we did was in service to the room, allowing it to shape the story rather than just framing it.