A line of clothes hang in a silent lilong 里弄lane.
A sluggish breeze sends damp T-shirts, sodden skirts and dripping trousers
slapping wetly against the old walls of the lane house behind it, a bricked
building which has taken on many new identities in last decade of its quiet 120-year
existence - a preservation site for history enthusiasts, a pain in the neck for
property developers, a non-entity for the new generation of Shanghai-ites. But
until recently, it has been the roof over the heads of an invisible family,
whose limp laundry is now displayed like humble tokens of fading existence
outside their dwelling. Where are human halves of these soggy shirts now?
Working, playing, loving, studying, facelessly walking the packed streets of
Shanghai - Liu Dao re-assembles the absent souls of these empty garments so we
can watch their surreal conversation in the summer sun, which evaporates not
only traces washing liquid but the fears and aspirations of a disappearing
community. [Loo Ching Ling 吕晶琳]