"Covered" is a project about traumatized children who have been suffered from the trauma of varying degrees, psychologically or physically, for different reasons.
Can people hear crying when they look at these still photos? In this room, a particular corner of this planet. This place is a reticent independent space. It gradually shrinks and transformed into an invisible spot on the earth. It is full of silence that can even only hear their cryings and roaring. The sound has inundated the ears. A simple movement that ordinary people can readily complete, it is excruciating for them. Tears and distorted expressions have always emerged on their neat face. Nevertheless, they have to do this repeated rehabilitation training day after day and year after year as if it is endless and hopeful. They are like a kind of distinct human beings, isolated in this room, covered with a piece of fabric that not many people discover.
When I was a child, I often hid under the table, mainly in danger or when strangers visited. I thought my childhood trauma caused this, so I made a safe area to shelter myself underneath the table. This table is covered by a tablecloth, like a tent, a small world of mine, so being surrounded makes me feel protected. I took this table to the Children Rehabilitation Center, and they slowly crawled under the table and sat there with their favorite toys or full of curiosity and excitement. I could not look directly into their eyes, their eyes with complex expressions but unadulterated. I kept thinking about why these small bodies should withstand such pain. They are covered by people who are not recognized; by this society. However, when people see them try so hard to keep training, or their family needs to bear the expensive cost of taking them for rehabilitation training or hear each unique story behind them, we will wonder a hug with them without compassionately. Maybe some children will be abandoned one day, and we do not know where they will go in the future. They want to walk freely or survive favorably; They have never fit into any categories; They genuinely need to be accepted by society and are people who need to be known and care for with love.
Then I returned to the place- origin of the trauma-the small town where I was born. After more than 20 years, significant changes have taken place here. The house I once lived in has disappeared. The origin of the trauma has become a river, weeds, and rocks along the river, just as I could not find a reason why this tragedy could have happened to those beautiful, kind, innocent human beings. What is still there is the piece of fabric.