adora xu. studio©
1. Douglas Adams
My design journey began with the echo of silence.
When I first arrived in Canada that year, the world seemed to have been drained of sound. The stinging pain of feeling out of place, the loneliness no one understood, nearly overwhelmed me. It wasn't until later that I realized that before me, others, under the same sky, had endured a silence even deeper and longer than mine—and yet I had never truly heard it.
Today, that silence persists, a whisper that remains indelible within my heart. It has taught me that some pain cannot be expressed, only felt; some dilemmas cannot be solved, only accompanied.
Thus, in my design practice, "ECHO" became more than just a typeface—it was my first exploration of "echo." I wondered if visuals could become a whisper, offering a subtle companionship in unnoticed corners.
Today, I've chosen to pursue interactive design precisely because static images cannot capture the dynamic flow of pain. What I want to create isn't an interface, but a digital space that breathes. When a user types "I'm tired," the system won't respond with a standard answer. Instead, the screen's colors will slowly soften, like a silent sigh. When a user logs in late at night for three consecutive days, it'll gently push a notification: "You're not alone. Others are awake too."
I want to break free from the designer's arrogance as a "creator" and become someone who builds a "container"—not offering solutions, but simply proof of existence. Every interactive moment isn't about educating users, but about affirming their presence: "I see you, I hear you, you're here."
If one night, my design can give someone a small reason to keep going, that will be the deepest response to all my silence and regret.