//how male stories in my family are passed down and why they hold more weight
//escape fantasies—why people leave and what they search for
//devices for imagination
//historical spaces of illusions
//1900’s Victorian panorama and mariorama
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//errors in feelings and aesthetics. amateurs

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//ghost stories.

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I dreamt about Mareorama, the sea-life simulation that combined a panorama and a moving platform.
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It is nighttime. You stand on the damp dock, moving back and forth mechanically, like a mother cradling a child. You are catching the translucent fish that only appear at night—the ones people in the village call the moths of the sea. They have no eyes, yet they swim toward the light. Your fishing boat is decorated with bright fairy lights to lure them in. The illuminated fishing boats form a sea of fireflies. And at that moment, they begin to dance rapidly.
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You don't even notice the storm coming. The waves rise so high you can barely stand. Thunder cracks. Saltwater splashes your face. The water reaches your knees. Your boat is slowly swallowed by the ocean.
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Abandon ship, great-grandpa, abandon ship.
Open your eyes. Please.
Open your eyes.

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Mom told me you’re still jealous that Uncle Jia-Chi is Grandpa’s favorite child. Grandpa used to say Uncle was the smartest kid in the family—graduated top of his class in high school and, of course, went into the semiconductor industry.
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When I visited Arizona during Christmas break, Uncle told me he was brought there to solve a glitch found on a chip—something about a tiny radioactive ceramic component casting rays. I told him I’ve started learning to work with clay. He said semiconductor chips and clay both come from the earth—something called silicon, or maybe silicone.
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I heard from Uncle that the Arizona plant is even more stressful than TSMC in Taiwan—or even teaching at Ching-Hua University. He half-joked that Taiwan’s semiconductor boom is built on the “cheap, exploding livers” of young engineers. Unlike their American peers, they’re still expected to work 12-hour shifts—just like in Taiwan.
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I wasn’t surprised when you asked if Uncle acted strange when I visited. I only knew from Aunt Betty that Uncle Jia-Chi had locked himself in his room. Chris said he saw him dancing with his eyes closed during the night, like he was possessed. He told me not to tell Aunt Betty or you.
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Today, I saw on the news that the Arizona plant has been shut down due to a worker shortage. There was a short clip on the local news of a sobbing Taiwanese lady in front of a mental hospital. She mentioned something about the haunted clay her husband keeps dreaming about.
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She reminded me of Aunt Betty.

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