朱高灿月ZHUGAOCANYUE
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© 2024 ZHUGAOCANYUE
疼痛依旧 Memory Faded, Pain Remained (2020—2022) Single
Photography (Film, Digital, Archive), Book ArtWhen I was a child, there was always a jar of candy in the living room. Nana would wash the candy paper we had eaten before and fold it into a paper flower. We would hang it by the window and watch it fly gently with the wind. It was a sweet memory for me, but for nana, it was more like a memorial.
During the 2020 lockdown in Hubei, we moved to nana's house to take care of each other, and I shared a room with her. Living together day and night, our disagreement about any trivial matter could be the trigger for a big fight. I tried to understand each other through conversation, and it was the first time nana talked about Zhenyuan, the name she had lost, and the faded memories of family. The conversation always ended in her tears and I gradually realized that though we lived in the same room, we were facing completely different worlds: Zhenyuan had never disappeared, and she had left my meemaw there forever.
She may forget all the bad memories one day, however the effects it had caused will stay and last. Like a wound without a scar, the memory faded and the pain remained.
小时候，客厅总会摆一罐糖果，我吃掉糖后，外婆就会把剥下来的糖纸洗干净叠成一朵小小的纸花，我们把它挂在窗户边，看它随着风轻轻地飞，对我而言，那是很甜的记忆，而对外婆来说，那更像是一场祭奠。
2020年初，湖北各市封城，为了相互照应，我们搬到外婆家共住，而我和外婆共享一间卧室。朝夕相处，生活习惯差异带来的矛盾在小小的房间里被放大化了，一切琐事都能成为导火索。我尝试用对话来理解她，于是我第一次听她讲起“振元”的故事，那个不再用的名字，记忆里早已模糊了面容的双亲，每一次谈话都以她的泪水告终。那些过去的、我永远无法感同身受的苦难让我逐渐意识到，尽管我们身体紧靠，但面对的是完全不同的世界：“振元”从没消失过，她把外婆永远留在那里了。
也许有一天，她终会忘记所有痛苦的记忆，但它所造成的影响永远不会消失，像没有疤痕的伤口，记忆消逝，疼痛依旧。
Book cover with a photo of Zhenyuan, Lulu, Yue—three main characters in each stories.