Yamiri, my father’s hometown near Korea’s northern border, once thrived with the warmth of farming and kinship. Now it lingers only during holidays — a village held in suspension, fading through aging, low birth rates, and urban concentration. By capturing its silent nights, I sought to portray a place neither alive nor gone, where memory persists like a faint pulse of light. I used CineStill 800T, a film known for its halation and imperfection, to mirror this suspended state — a fragile coexistence of presence and loss. In Yamiri, darkness never fully erases; it remembers.