Before we immigrated to Canada, we lived in a refugee camp in Hong Kong after the war. When it came time to leave, some family went to Los Angeles, while by Dad, believing that Canada was the best place for us, chose the north for our new home. Although we never lived in Southern California, a part of me longed for it. There is something about the warmth and sun that reminds me of the place where I am from. I think: keep swimming west into the Pacific and I would inevitably land on the beaches of my birthplace. Growing up, I dreamed of a place I never lived, and felt its warm sun on my skin. Before ever stepping foot on Santa Monica Pier, I had dreamt of it – like I had been there in another life. And these are the shadowy imperfect visions I’ve held in my mind ’til that day I finally got to photograph it.