By knitting, I make a movie. The pieces of past memories are like thin threads—woven together, they become a knitted fabric, and that fabric becomes a film. If you look closely at the delicate, completed knitting, you can trace the flow of time embedded in it. I want to gather the loops of those past moments, unravel them, and reweave them into stories again and again. In the future, I’ll be confused. I’ll simply wait for time to pass—knitting all the while. Through this film, I intend to stage a kind of coming-out. I will continue to stray from what society considers “normal,” remembering the moment I first began to question the identity of a straight woman that had been assigned to me without my consent. At the same time, I aim to turn the traditionally disparaged image of “femininity”—symbolized by knitting—into a tool of bold rebellion. Through this film, I hope for a future in which everyone living at the borders of identity can explore their possibilities without limitation, and offer a message of affirmation and support to those who must ask questions of themselves, simply for existing on the margins.