Ringu (1998)

In my last week on earth, I’d spend all my time on you. Hoard your hair and teeth gone loose. Rest our skulls together, my eyes filling your sockets. Scream onscreen, static, oceanic, relic.

Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022)

How can you ignore lifetimes of pain and joy and dreams trapped in your cells? I’ve been thinking a lot about my ancestors after straying from them for so long. You know the drill by this point. I wanted big doe eyes. I thought jade looked tacky. I’d even wince at the word—ancestor. Sad, isn’t it? To uproot your own roots. The first time I touched Asian soil, I cried without meaning to. Coming home, an ocean away from home. These days I try to talk to my roots because I hear that helps them grow, but what do I know? You and I have spent lifetimes growing, apart, growing apart. And now I’m here, buying a $20 jade pendant off Etsy from someone in the UK, another ocean away from home. The pendant arrives just days before I see this movie and, with it hanging around my neck, I notice Michelle Yeoh wearing the same one. Does it mean something? I don’t think so, but I want it to. It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I think, ancestors, if only you could see me now—drifting down the wrong road, fumbling my keys in the dark, dreaming my way back to you. I hope you’ll still have me. I’ll leave my shoes at the door and I’ll boil the water. I’ll bring you your slippers and I’ll move your chair into the sun. And you’ll squint and gently pull at the gold chain of my jade pendant and ask, “is it real?”