My grandma died two months before I made this piece. She was diagnosed with cancer in the first three months before her death, but my parents did not tell me about it, fearing that I would worry about my grandma. After her death, they told me what was going on at the funeral. I thought I was a strong person. I don't think I would cry, but I couldn't stop my tears when I heard the news. I thought I would never drink the chicken soup she made for me. When she was alive, I didn't cherish her well, and now I feel extremely sorry. 
A few days before her death, her friend asked her if she had any regrets before dying. She nodded. The friend asked if she missed her son? She shook her head. Then her friend asked if she missed her daughter and shook her head. Finally, she asked her if she missed her grandson, and she nodded and shed tears at the same time. If I had known her cancer earlier, I would like to make a video call with her and show her where I live and where I study so that she would not be so sorry before leaving. 
On the seventh day after her death, I took a nap in my studio, and I suddenly dreamed that my grandma opened the door of my studio and walked in, and I was awake there. I think my grandma came to see me in my dream. Driven by such strong emotions, I want to use this work to mourn my grandma. I thought of her chicken soup, and I still remember the taste. I know the whole process of making chicken soup, but I can't make that taste. Before I came to the United States, when I saw her for the last time, she also made me chicken soup, just a bowl, a pot of soup.
I try to use glass to make soup pots and bowls, chopsticks, etc., in my memory to imitate the final scene and the taste. My blowing technique is not very good, but I try my best to achieve what I remember. My glass pot was broken eight times, and my hands were burned, but at the last time, I finally succeeded in enduring the pain. Make a small size soup pot. This is a soup pot that I made in my memory. It doesn't look perfect, but it can't be a better gift for my grandmother. I also made my grandma's chicken soup, and I poured the soup into the soup pot, kept it for a while, saved the flavor, and poured it out. The whole room is full of the smell of chicken soup, but you can't see any soup in it, only the traces of the soup in the pot. 
For me, I will never see my grandma again. I only have the taste in memory, which is a loss to me. I bring this taste to the audience, and the audience can't eat it. It is also a loss for them. These two types of loss are not the same, but I can share my feelings and personal memories with the audience through visual and olfactory methods. Let the audience recall the memories of their families together, the food in those memories.
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