This autobiographical documentary offers a meditative exploration of memory, familial bonds, and the shifting contours of identity in the face of aging and illness. Structured through a first-person lens, the film navigates my growing sense of disconnection from my grandmother, who is gradually losing her cognitive and physical faculties due to Parkinson’s disease.
Catalyzed by the rediscovery of old voice recordings, I embark on an introspective journey into the recesses of personal memory. What unfolds is a fragmented reconstruction of shared history—through observational footage, family photographs, and intimate conversations—revealing the instability of recollection and the impermanence of relational identity.
The work situates itself within a lineage of subjective documentary practices, drawing on the aesthetics of diaristic cinema to question the reliability of memory as a vessel for truth. It examines how illness not only reshapes the physical body but also destabilizes interpersonal perception, blurring the boundaries between self and other.
Through a restrained visual style and handheld observational framing, the film quietly meditates on themes of generational continuity, loss, and the emotional labour of remembering. It is at once a personal archive and a philosophical inquiry into the role of memory in shaping selfhood—highlighting the ephemeral nature of connection, and the quiet, often invisible, ruptures wrought by time.
