When I was a child, I used to visit the homes of my paternal and maternal grandmothers frequently. It always felt mysterious to me that even though they were both my "grandmothers," their homes were physically worlds apart, and their ways of living were completely different. Looking back, going between their houses felt like traveling between two entirely distinct realities.

What triggered my desire to sit down and truly listen to their stories was a brief remark made by my maternal grandmother. She used to work alongside my grandfather at his factory, which had already passed its prime by the time I was a child. One day, she mentioned that she was actually the one managing the factory and occasionally making key business decisions. Because she felt the need to defer to her husband, she had kept this to herself for a very long time. I was astonished by this story, which I had never heard before, and all the unspoken thoughts and feelings kept inside her suddenly seemed to flow into me. If I missed the chance to hear her story now, where would those quiet memories end up? Stirred by this urgency, I began to interview them and document their stories.

In this film, the lives recounted in my grandmothers' own words were transcribed into a text in collaboration with them. This text is read aloud by two women close to my own age. As the events of their lives were spoken through the voices and bodies of these two readers, I witnessed moments where the memories of these two grandmothers—who were strangers to one another—and the memories of the performing actors seemed to overlap and blur together.

My grandmothers' stories are entirely their own, deeply personal to each of them. Throughout the creative process, I was constantly asking myself: can such unique, singular memories ever be shared with others as a story that carries a sense of universality?​