In August 2023, Japan officially initiated the discharge of nuclear wastewater into the sea, with plans for a 30-year release. Just a few months later, the once-blue ocean has already become partially polluted, causing irreversible damage to the marine environment and its inhabitants. 10,950 days, a terrifying number, and perhaps on that day, the apocalyptic scenes from movies may become a reality. "Though mountains and rivers separate us, the wind and moon share the same sky." We share one planet, one ocean. Humanity has never been the master; each one of us should take action, resist, speak out, and more, for the sake of marine ecosystems, marine life, humanity itself, for anything...

Using black gauze to represent the ocean, it has no shape, just like the boundless and vast sea. Black symbolizes the harm of nuclear wastewater to the ocean. Black is despair, cruelty, foretelling the day when sunlight will no longer penetrate the sea. Silver pins, gleaming with a cold light, pierce through the black gauze time and time again, just like the tangible and intangible damage caused by nuclear pollution. Blue and green glitter, representing nuclear contamination, aligning with the characteristics of nuclear elements, while their brilliance accentuates the immense damage...

The symmetrical design on the side of the ears is meant to mimic fins, as they have been hurt the most. Countless pins pierce through them, leaving them riddled with holes... One side is black as usual, while the other side is white with some blue and green sequins, representing the damage caused by nuclear wastewater, gradually becoming evident.

In the very center, a shape resembling a mouth, it's the nose, it's also the mouth, but they are both imprisoned by countless pins, confined on the wire, entwined on the black gauze. However, the black gauze doesn't allow light to pass through, just like the title "Suffocation," it's as if it can't breathe, choking... This is a grave warning and implication.

In 2050, I am an ordinary fish. The seawater passing through my gills stings more than the air. I can no longer see the sparkling surface of the water, and my breathing is so difficult, so slow... Oh, ocean, your body is no longer a gentle shade of blue, and the light can no longer penetrate to illuminate me. My fish fins are beginning to display ominous patches of color. Save me, I am suffocating...