There are three stages of death: when your heart stops beating, the body is dead, physically; when people come to your funeral, you are dead socially; when the last person who remembers you be gone, you are really dead. 

 

    So when I realized that I was not invited to my aunt’s funeral, I knew I need a ceremony of my own —— a ceremony to communicate between the living and the dead, two generations, and a family. 

 

    The trip was recorded by phone. It might be a ceremony, but it still was just a family road trip. A simple, ordinary, however uncanny family gathering, that traveling with an old box.

 

    I record the doings, not what was done. 

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    This place appears to be a living space that has already been lent out. It is one kind of things that people talk about most in this city, Beijing. 

 

    The talkings were set in my old living room in my aunt’s house. I “spoke” about everything in this room. However, when the ceremony can not go on forever, I must move out because the house was lend out. The tenant decided to renovate the house. I don’t feel sad about it, because the action was done.