Director's Notes：The Sea We Call Home

The South China Sea is often seen through the lens of history, geopolitics and maritime disputes. The Sea We Call Home takes a different approach. It turns to the people who have lived by this sea for generations and asks a simple question: What makes a place home?

The greatest challenge was finding the right people. Rather than asking characters to support a predetermined argument, we began with their lives: a man who has made a small island his home; fishermen who inherited routes travelled by their ancestors; divers who know the reefs beneath the surface; families adapting as fishing grounds and ways of life change; and those who remain on shore, waiting for boats to return. Once we found them, our task was not to make them explain the South China Sea, but to let them tell us about the sea they know.

The film is built around five stories. Each can stand on its own, but each takes us a little further. Fresh water makes it possible to stay on an island. Old navigation routes carry fishermen far across the sea. Divers descend into reefs they have known for years. As fishing grounds and livelihoods change, some travel farther and find new ways to make a living. And finally, in the fishing town of Tanmen, we meet those who stay behind – watching the weather, waiting for boats and hoping to see someone return. Together, the five stories trace a simple journey: staying, setting out, diving beneath the surface, going farther and coming home. Along the way, the meaning of "home" gradually changes. It is an island, a stretch of sea, a livelihood, a memory, a family and a place to return to.

The film does not avoid the realities surrounding the South China Sea. Huangyan Dao, old navigation books, changing fishing grounds and present-day disputes are all there. But we did not want these issues to overwhelm their lives. Disputes provide context when they affect experience. Environmental and economic changes are shown through the choices fishermen themselves are making. Some challenges can be adapted to; others remain unresolved. A home does not have to be perfect to be home. It can contain uncertainty, hardship, change and loss. In that sense, the lives of fishermen here are not so different from those of coastal communities elsewhere in the world.

Restraint gradually became one of the guiding principles of the film. If a person could tell the story, we let them speak. If an image could carry the meaning, we tried not to explain it again. If historical context was necessary, we provided it – but only as much as the story needed. And when there was no simple answer, we resisted the temptation to provide one. In the end, this is a film about the sea, but also about something much more universal: why people leave, why they return and why somewhere becomes home.