The actual presence of I, the viewer, is required to truly apprehend the absence of you, the Other. These domestic ruins have been rafted from 
nowhere, from no one. I cannot sit in your chair, eat at your table. 
I cannot open your dresser and touch your shirts that will trigger eidetic memories of a dance or late night walk. The proximity between you and me is infinite. (And what kind of proximity do I need to write as witness? Should I have experienced the event myself? 
If I watched the video, can I write about it? Do I have to be related to the victim? And what do you mean by relation?) I can never metabolize what you went through yet I cannot escape your disquieting sadness, the burden of your solitude. How it unfolds even when I leave this space. What has become of you? What could have gone through your mind?

- Cathy Park Hong in Against Witness

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