More than a milestone in Hsiao-Hsien Hou’s career, Dust in the Wind is a film in which love is brewed by time itself. It follows childhood sweethearts A-yuan and A-yun, from trains, dirt paths, and schoolyards in their hometown to the distance and waiting beneath Taipei’s neon lights. There is no dramatic confrontation here—only the faint abrasions of everyday life: a letter that never arrives, a farewell before a long journey, clouds slowly spreading across the sky. Within these seemingly ordinary moments, Hou captures one of the most profound expressions of East Asian emotion: love as endurance, as watchfulness, as a quiet decision to take root in the dust, even while knowing that fate is as fleeting as the wind.

Adapted from the personal experiences of Wu Nien-jen, the film features performances by Tien-lu Li, Shu-fen Hsin, and others that feel as natural as breathing, crystallizing the collective memory of an era. Mark Ping Bin Li's cinematography renders each frame like a rain-soaked rural poem, while Ming-chang Chen’s music allows sorrow to glow from within. Seen today on the big screen, the film’s grain and colors feel almost tactile—as if time itself could be touched.

On February 15, we gather in the theater and allow Hsiao-Hsien Hou’s long takes to slow us down. In the dusk of Los Angeles, we rediscover a distinctly Eastern emotional density: love does not always need to blaze like fireworks. It can also be a quiet companionship, like mountain mist—and like the blue sky that still waits after a train emerges from a tunnel.