zhuohan grace yin

lonely feverish dreaming, 2021

In my third year of undergrad, classes were entirely online. I lived alone in a flimsy cube-room of a house that was on the verge of falling apart. I ventured out only for the necessities (snacks, frozen broccoli, toilet paper, instant coffee) and spent the rest of the time either at my desk or in my bed.

Every day was the same. And I loved it.

For my Independent Studio course, I chose to expand on that claustrophobic comfort zone I was confined to. I was alone and spoke to no one, I was untethered, I was losing muscle mass; I was constantly plugged -in, I was having fun!, I was dreaming. Day and night, I dreamed. What else could I do?