I asked six people to make flowers bloom. They are careful not to damage the flowers, knowing that they are fragile. The videos appear two by two. They start with the first two videos at the top, then the ones in the middle, then the ones at the bottom.

As a symbol of ephemerality, the flower is at once pure, sexual and fragile. The act of borrowing an external force to make a flower bloom is violent, no matter how gentle the gesture.
People's hands are the miniature of my parents. I seek an outlet in the midst of my parents' scolding by being a girl who wants to bloom independently. Yet six flowers are in six separate television frames. This is the cage that inevitably arises from a medium like television. I am locked in this cage.