Lonn Wave

I am Zhuang, born on the border between Yunnan and Vietnam.

I grew up in rural borderlands — geographically, culturally, between things. I now live in Tokyo.

My parents were often absent.

What remains are a few indelible images.

I remember my mother placing me — crying and restless — into a cardboard box outside her music classroom. From inside that box, I watched the square-shaped sky as clouds drifted slowly by. Her voice and her students' voices rose and fell in song. She told me that whenever the music started, my crying would stop.

That box was my first frame. That sky was my first image.

I work in essay and observational forms, moving between non-fiction and invention — not to claim a perspective, but to let one quietly emerge.

I have always lived somewhere in between.

Not passing through. Not arriving. Suspended — drawn to the unfinished, the in-between, the not-yet.

I am within and without.