After nearly two months of unbroken rain, the sun finally came out in Taipei—but not over the war in Ukraine. I put on a blue suit, poured a bottle of water over myself, and soaked the fabric. Then I draped myself and a borrowed yellow sweater over the railings of the walkway above Zhongshan MRT Station, and remained there until everything was completely dry.

Notes by my helper 詠：

• Four people passed below. One looked up for a while and asked, “What is she doing?” Another replied, “Don’t look, don’t look.”

• A woman with a camera lingered nearby for a long time, taking photos from different angles. She said she asked a few people around, but no one knew what was going on. One of her photos showed me from below, with a sign in the background that read “invisible.” Looking at the image, she said: “I saw her curling up under the coat, shaking her arms, as if struggling or trying to hide herself.”

• Nothing else particularly stood out. Most people simply stared in silence.

Note by me:

• Two kids ran up. One shouted, “She looks dead!” I called back, “I’m not dead at all!”

• A few drops of water fell from my damp sleeve. A woman sitting below with her Maltese looked up, startled, then hurriedly packed up her things and left.

• My mask was covering my entire face, and I heard a young woman below say, “Hey, look! Her hand is moving!”

• Special thanks to Yung for documenting the process, and to Charlotte for lending the yellow sweater.